


Verse Two

by likeamadonna



Category: U2
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeamadonna/pseuds/likeamadonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Edge helps Bono recover from his accident. Set in the winter of 2014-15.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unreasonable

**Author's Note:**

> After thirteen years (!) of not writing or even reading fan fiction about these two, I recently became curious to see if this part of the fandom was active. I found out that, yes, a few people are still writing B/E, and to my surprise, they were influenced by the things I had written way back in my LJ and pre-LJ years. So I began reading their excellent and engaging work (shoutout to spacemonkey) and became caught up in this world again. And then...I had an idea. Ohhh, idea, look what you made me do.
> 
> This is my version of Bono and Edge, if that makes sense. I never quite went for complete realism with them. I always imagined they existed in a Wes Anderson-like world where everything is exquisitely arranged and people are maybe a bit more dazzling than they might be in real life. And it looks like they'll be saying the F word a lot.
> 
> Regarding practical information such as how close the house is to the beach and its general layout, and what went on with Bono as he recovered, I'm totally guessing, but I don't think it matters very much. Throughout the story, I'll drop in little ideas or images from previous stories I've written, just for the heck of it.

" _Fuck_ this fucker."

"I happen to love that fucker."

"You just happen to love what that fucker can do for you, except it can't do it now, and these two stubby little fuckers _especially_ can't do it now, so I really don't know what to say to you, Edge."

"How about good morning, Bono?"

"Good morning."

"How's the arm?"

" _Fuck_ this fucker."

Bono shifted uncomfortably in the oversized bed in a downstairs room that had become his home office. It was littered with newspapers, magazines, and various pieces of technology. He gestured at the breakfast tray on his lap with a mixture of disgust and dismay, and Edge placed it near the door.

"You're looking much better," Edge said, fluffing a pillow and placing it behind Bono's back as he sat up.

"Better than what? The steak tartare that was my face last month? Thank you so much."

"She said you were in rare form this morning."

" _She_ is undoubtedly overjoyed that you have come over so _she_ can leave this godforsaken house and have a few hours of peace."

"The painkillers have worn off, I see."

"Edge, I didn't want to be in a haze when you came over. I need you to help me get these melodies out of my head. You know that."

"I'm more than happy to do so," Edge said, gazing wistfully through one of the room's large picture windows at the anemic sunrise. He tried to remember exactly when this man had become a morning person.

Bono watched Edge and exhaled. "Dear god, I am an idiot. I'm sorry. Can we start over? Get in here with me. Please."

Edge kicked off his shoes and slipped under the blankets, all variations of periwinkle blue, and he wondered if Bono had selected that color intentionally or was it a happy accident that they almost matched his eyes. Attempting to organize the cavalcade of pillows that had been shoved aside, he asked, "How is the physical therapy going?"

Bono glanced at the next-generation, one-of-a-kind sling supporting his his left arm. "That mastodon made me do unspeakable activities for hours yesterday, Edge. The only thing that's keeping me from dying of complete boredom is the relentless, searing pain that I am forced to endure."

Edge chuckled. "I'm proud of you. And your face...the human body's ability to heal itself is amazing."

"I've aged ten years since the accident, and that's just a fact, the Edge. I should have sprung for an eye lift while I was in the hospital. I had the perfect opportunity and it slipped away." Bono raised his left eyebrow, a charming skill Edge was relieved to see he had retained.

"Come on. I love your eyes the way they are."

"It's just...this skin under my eyebrows. You know? Will it ever stop slipping down? I want my old eyes back," Bono sighed, lifting his left eyebrow again, this time with his right middle finger.

Edge said, "Don't be ridiculous. And incidentally, my eyes are doing that, too."

Bono was aghast. "Edge! No. On you it looks good! Distinguished. Jesus Christ, you are aging magnificently."

Edge looked pleased, and he pretended to study the case of Bono's phone for exactly ten seconds before glancing back at Bono and slyly saying, "As are you."

"Get over here."

Edge moved closer to Bono and gently ran his fingers over the newly-healed skin around his beautiful left eye. Like a cat eager for attention, Bono leaned into his hand and noticed Edge's arm. "Hey, look at you...look at these arms. I hate to sound like a cliche, but have you been working out, Reg?"

"A little. Yes."

"A lot." Edge shrugged.

"I guess I've been feeling restless since your accident. It seemed like we were just starting to accelerate, and then we had to stop. I couldn't help you heal any faster, and I needed to do something with all that unused energy. So, I don't know, I've just been doing everything I normally do, except more of it."

"Well, my accident looks fantastic on you, love." Bono kissed Edge's cheek and grinned.

"I've missed that smile."

Bono shook his head and chuckled. "Me too. Those bandages were torture. They wouldn't even let me have an org-"

"I know."

"Because they didn't want to disturb the -"

"I know."

"Because my face when I -"

"Believe me, I know."

"It would've -"

"And then you'd be back at square one."

"This is what I'm saying."

"You poor sweet darling."

Bono moved to make a grand gesture of exasperation when a small jolt of pain in his left shoulder reminded him that it didn't want to participate. "It was the worst. Even though those pain killers, those divine pain killers _(holy shit Edge)_ , even though those pain killers sort of dulled every urge I might have had, it was still the fucking worst."

"Or in your case, the not-fucking worst."

"Exactly."

"So now that the pain killers are wearing off..." Edge paused, his eyes traveling down Bono's blanketed and amorphous form.

"I am experiencing sexual attraction on a level I didn't even know existed," Bono purred, pleased with that sentence.

"How wonderful for you."

"Except with the mastodon. The mastodon can go fuck himself."

"Yeah, fuck that guy." The two made eye contact and laughed.

"So did you want to get started?" Edge asked, taking his phone out of his pocket. "I'll bring up my gear, and this app will record everything."

Bono, who normally relished a good full-body yawn, could only manage a disappointing 75 percent version. "Would you mind if we took a walk by the shore first?"

"Really? It's pretty raw outside. Are you sure you're up to it?" Edge yawned, knowing Bono was enjoying his yawning influence.

He nodded. "I think so. Not for long. I've been dying for a change of scenery and some fresh air, raw or otherwise."

"Okay. We'll take it slow, alright?" Edge rolled out of bed and began putting his shoes on.

"I'm afraid I have no other choice."

Edge grabbed his coat and helped Bono out of bed, figuring that his black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants were acceptable beach-walking attire. They walked arm in arm from the bedroom and down a hall to the east entrance of the house. Edge found a coat for Bono in the closet by the door and carefully eased him into it, unable to put his arm in the left sleeve. "Sorry Edge. Every mundane task becomes an ordeal with this Judas of an arm," Bono said, slightly embarrassed but appreciative of Edge's kindness. "Maybe this will be my winter of capes."

"You're doing fine."

"And it's not the first time this fucker has betrayed me. Remember when I dislocated my shoulder and- "

"How could anyone ever forget?"

"It had to be in a sling for a whole month and- "

"I thought you looked quite fetching in your little sling."

Bono laughed. "You, sir, are a pervert, and I love you."

"Let's get your shoes on," Edge said, finding a pair at the bottom of the closet that probably belonged to Bono.

"You'll have to tie them for me."

"No problem."

Edge glanced at a bench and Bono sat down, smiling fondly as Edge pulled up one of his socks. "Christ, why is the simple act of one man kneeling at the feet of another man so fucking sexy?" Bono grinned.

"Because the pain killers have worn off."

"That explains it."

"On with your hat," Edge said, noticing the omnipresent drab green hat that was inexplicably Bono's favorite.

"And scarf," Bono insisted.

"And scarf."

Edge found somebody's scarf in the closet, draped it around Bono's neck, and knotted it at his throat. "Christ, why is the simple act of one man tying a thing around the neck of another man so fucking sexy?"

"Because it's so fucking sexy," Edge said, leaning in for a gentle kiss. Bono's mouth tasted like oranges, and Edge could tell he wanted more, though, especially after a few weeks of being treated like the world's most delicate snowflake. So he kissed him harder and longer than usual before coming up for air.

"God, I've missed you," Bono gasped.

"I've been here almost every day since your accident."

"I know, but, you know. Like this."

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team." They made their way out the door, winced at the damp, cold air, and slowly walked down some stairs that led to the windswept beach.

"Please note the little-old-man-ness of my gait."

"Just take it one step at a time. There's nowhere we need to be."

Bono breathed deeply and took in his misty gray surroundings. "Look at that sun. It's like somebody punched a hole in the sky."

"That's some violent imagery."

"No, I mean it's like a hole made with a giant paper punch."

"Huh. Okay."

"You see it, don't you?"

Edge squinted up through the mist at the perfect white circle. "Of course I do. And you're right. That's exactly what it looks like. I've never thought of it that way."

Bono smiled, content, and the two walked the rest of the way to the shore.

Edge said, "You know I love the way your mind works. I always have."

"Even when we were kids."

"I found you fascinating. It's not like you're my opposite..." Edge trailed off.

"I'm your complement."

They continued walking and watched the waves lap against the gravely shore. Edge said, "That's why we work together so well."

"That's why we play together so well."

"That too."

Bono lost his footing, wobbled a bit, and gripped Edge's arm tightly. "Remember when you were trying to teach me how to play guitar? You seemed to do it so effortlessly. You weren't just playing it; you were creating with it, even when we were still in school."

"I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that."

"I was so enchanted with you that I really just wanted to be you. But this fucker was making it impossible for me to learn. My fingers were in so much pain, and I tried to ignore it so you wouldn't think I was soft."

Edge laughed. "I knew it was killing you. Those first few weeks with a guitar are really difficult because you need to build up callouses, and I told you to take it easy."

"And that was news to me, so you showed me your left hand--your perfect left hand that has never given you one ounce of trouble, unlike some I could name. You put your hand in mine, Edge, and don't think that didn't thrill me. You were so proud of those tough little fingertips of yours."

" _'I can't feel anything with these anymore,'_ " Edge said, trying to sound like his teenage self.

Relishing the long-forgotten memory, Bono picked up steam. "I sort of marveled over your fingers for maybe just a bit longer than was absolutely necessary, and then I realized that mine--which were throbbing and hypersensitive at the time--mine would grow callouses like yours and soon they wouldn't be able to feel things anymore. So I reached out and touched your cheekbone, just for a split second, and then I pulled it away quickly as if it had cut me."

"Any excuse to touch me."

They looked at each other. "So your face was the last thing I touched with this fucker that meant anything. And soon enough I had callouses, too."

"Hold on, let me check something." Edge knelt before Bono and inspected his fingertips. Looking up, he said, "You don't have callouses anymore, B."

"Of course I do."

"Ehm, you don't. The skin regenerates itself if you don't play, and obviously you haven't played your guitar in weeks. Your fingers are soft again."

"Seriously? I mean, they're still numb; I had no idea. Wow."

"You'll have to build them up again." Edge found a small white shell, put it in his pocket, and stood up.

"From scratch?"

"Sorry."

Bono looked up at the pearly sky. "But now my fucked up nerves are the only things keeping me from touching your face and feeling it for the first time in, what, almost forty years?"

"38."

"I'm touching it anyway. Actually, move your face so I can touch it."

Edge returned to his knees and gingerly rested his cheekbone against Bono's cold fingers, and then he kissed them. "You'll get better, love. Those nerves will heal with time. And we can do this properly when that happens." He put his arms around Bono's waist and embraced him, noticing how much thinner and more fragile he felt.

"Edge, as awful as this accident has been for me, can you imagine what would have happened if you were the one who crashed his bike? What if you couldn't play? We'd be over, just like that, no questions asked. You are everything to this band."

"I appreciate that, but you're the band's heart, and we nearly lost you." Edge watched a single wave make its journey to their feet and blinked a few times.

"Did you cry then, too?" Bono asked impishly.

"Not again, B."

"Tell me exactly what happened when you saw me." Edge flipped him off casually and rolled his eyes.

"You already know. We've talked about this several times."

"Humor me. Please, Reg. You nearly lost me."

Edge sighed. Bono was a sucker for melodrama, especially if it involved himself. "Alright. You. As you well know, I got to the hospital as soon as I could. Eve came rushing out of your room, and she burst into tears when she saw me. I hugged her and tried to calm her down, and then I caught a glimpse of Ali's face through a window. She motioned for me to come in, and she and I went over to you, and she said -"

" _'Oh Edge, this man of ours.'_ "

"She put my hand in yours, and she covered it with hers. I put my arm around her shoulders, she sobbed, and that's when I lost my composure."

"'I lost my composure.'"

"There were tears from me as well. I cry silently, you know that."

"I fucking love you." Bono shivered.

"Let's get you back home." They turned around and were assaulted by a cold breeze, but the sun, now a wispy white-gold blur, made a feeble attempt to warm their faces. The two walked back to the house in companionable silence.

"What does the sun remind you of now?" Edge asked as they reached the east entrance.

Bono glanced at it and smirked. "My hair in a few months."

"Okay...?"

"I'm going to stop dyeing it 'Cinnamon Nightmare' or 'Burnt Sienna Hellscape' or whatever that color is called."

"So you're just going to let it go white? Wow." Edge tried to picture it as he opened the door.

"You know my team would never allow that to happen."

"Hilarious that you have a team for this now."

"Like you don't have a beanie crew."

"I wish."

Bono adopted his besieged rock star persona. "And it's just two people. They're bored, obviously, and they came up with this idea that while I'm indisposed I should let the white grow in--however much there is; I have no fucking idea--and then tint that blonde and let whatever's left of my natural color become low lights and--okay, shut the fuck up."

Edge made no attempt to stifle his laughter. "That's actually a really good idea."

"Oh yeah? Would that get you off, Edge?"

"Probably."

"Challenge accepted. In fact, let's go right now." Bono leered at Edge, tossed his hat on the bench, and struggled with his coat.

"Oh no, B. This is family time," Edge said, taking over and unbuttoning it for him.

"But we were supposed to be out doing promotional stuff. Our charm offensive was actually starting to work."

"Not now, and not until we begin rehearsals, at least."

"But that's in fucking March!" Bono kicked off his shoes.

"And definitely not until you're 100 percent again."

"But what about my morale?" Bono whined. "How am I going to endure this fucked up winter without your...special brand of physical therapy?"

"You'll simply need to be patient. Let me be your reward," Edge said firmly.

"This is completely demoralizing."

"I disagree. When we were outside talking--talking like an old couple reliving their memories--I thought maybe we could turn your accident into an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?"

Edge took his time removing Bono's scarf and leaned in to kiss his warm neck. "To start again. You've been given a second chance, Bono."

"Oh, it wasn't quite so dire."

"No. I nearly lost you, remember? I think it would be interesting to return to those early days when simply touching my fingers made you blush." He touched the scar on Bono's chin, and Bono kissed his perfectly calloused fingertips.

"So this winter we're going to pretend that we haven't been together--really together--for over twenty years?" he asked quietly.

"23."

"Ugh, I fucking hate you," Bono smiled.

"Think about it. What motivates you?" Edge whispered as he kissed Bono's earlobe.

"Human rights offenses such as this one and the need for change," Bono whispered back.

Edge placed his hands on Bono's shoulders and looked in his eyes. "You want the things you can't have. And look at this place: you have everything you could ever want, and a hundred times more than you need. I'm giving you the rare opportunity to want something again." They kissed once more, and while Bono groaned softly in frustration, Edge could tell he was amused. Bono loved their little games.

"You're still going to help me get these songs out of my head, right?"

"Of course." Edge pulled away and put Bono's things back in the closet.

"And we just kissed. Can we do that?" They walked down the hall to Bono's room.

"Yes. Let's say everything above the waist is fair game. But only when we're alone. And we can rub up against each other if we're fully clothed."

Bono paused and turned to face Edge. "You can't make me stop eye-fucking you anywhere ever," he said, demonstrating.

Edge attempted to do the same, but failed. Bono's abilities in this arena were always devastating. "I wouldn't want to. Significant looks are fine. Flirting is fine. Talking and writing are fine. See how lenient I'm being?" Edge heard the rules he was making up on the fly bounce off the ornate high ceiling and the polished floor.

"But I want sex, too..." Bono complained in a perfunctory attempt to change his mind one last time.

Edge looked at him calmly. "See, what we're going to do is different from the past because rather than wondering if I am ever going to fuck you, now you have the absolute guarantee that I will, and each day is one day closer to it."

Bono's eyes sparkled.

As they entered the bedroom, Edge continued, "And you will need to be back at 100 percent when it happens because I fully intend to fuck you...if not all night, then for an unreasonable amount of time."

"You're so unreasonable, Edge," Bono sighed dreamily.

"Until then, I suggest we both give that idea some serious thought."

"Oh I will."

Edge turned Bono to face the wall by his bed, and carefully pushed him against it. Tilting Bono's head down, Edge kissed the back of his neck, grazing his teeth against his skin and pressing his chest against his back.

"It will start out like this."


	2. It's No Secret At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a series of phone calls from Edge and emails from Bono, sans narration. It will return after the next chapter. The A-Z part was inspired by that 6,000+ word message Bono wrote on January 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for finding this story, welcoming me back into the fold, and sharing your feedback with me! It's incredibly gratifying.

"Yes?"

"Is this a good time to talk? Sorry to be calling so late."

"Why hello Edge. I was just thinking about you."

"Really..."

"Yes. I am attempting to make my right hand feel like your mouth."

"Good luck with that one."

"Right hand. Did you hear that? _Right hand_."

"Oh no. You poor thing."

"I can't even make it feel like my left hand, much less your mouth. This is an absolute goddamn travesty."

"You're just going to have to adapt."

"Thank you for that valuable advice. What exactly was the reason for your call, Edge?"

"Do you really think we should do two completely different, alternating set lists?"

"Fuck you."

"I'll talk with you about this in the morning."

"I hate you, you know."

"I love you, Bono."

"I love you, Edge."

 

\-----

 

from: B <\-------@mac.com>

to: The E <\-------@gmail.com>

date: Thurs, Dec 11, 2015 at 2:28 PM

subject: Bed

Edge, please be advised that I have made the executive decision to use that photo of the four of us in bed on all future branding regarding the tour. Do not fight me on this. JESUS CHRIST JUST LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING.

cc: Larry, Adam

 

\-----

 

from: B <\-------@mac.com>

to: The E <\-------@gmail.com>

date: Tue, Jan 2, 2015 at 7:28 PM

subject: It's more like a pamphlet

 

2 January 2015

LITTLE BOOK OF A BIG MAN: Bono's A to Z of The Edge

 

A IS FOR ADDICTION

I am addicted to this man and all he stands for.

B IS FOR BONO

Without Edge there is no Bono, just some random, insufferable arsehole named Paul.

C IS FOR COME OVER RIGHT NOW THE EDGE

I mean it. Why are you still celebrating New Year's with Morleigh's family? It's practically January third.

D IS FOR DAVID

Without Bono there is no Edge, just some random astrophysicist/neurosurgeon named Dave.

E IS FOR EDGE

I fucking named you. I even saddled you with a The.

F IS FOR FUCK ME

Self-explanatory.

G IS FOR GENIUS

Self-expanatory.

H IS FOR HATE

I hate you.*

I IS FOR I

*I love you. Please continue to ignore my claims of hatred.

J IS FOR JUST GIVE ME TEN MINUTES

In which to molest you.

K IS FOR KNOW THIS:

When you lift this horrific, mean, and altogether unfair restriction, you will have to deal with the loudest and most explosive orgasm I can produce, and I will not hold back one bit, and if people hear me and you are somehow embarrassed by their reactions later on, I will not give the slightest of fucks.

L IS FOR LUST

Holy shit, Edge.

M IS FOR MAN

Oh, the things we have done together. My 19 year-old self would be stunned, Edge, stunned. Before I knew you, I found myself attracted to men occasionally. Some were merely role models, and others made me feel things that gave me pause. But there's a tremendous chasm between feeling things and acting on them _(Marc Bolan never gave me a chance!)_. I was fully prepared to let those feelings live happily in my imagination the way I would guess the vast majority of people do. But you were undeniable. And you already know all of this.

N IS FOR NEW YORK

Come with me to New York, Edge...

O IS FOR

(See K above)

P IS FOR PLEASURE

I just like the sound of the word, don't you? It sounds like what it is. I could stretch it out to ten syllables or more. Have I ever included that word in a lyric? I can't remember. If not, what's wrong with me? In conclusion, please help me write a song about pleasure, Edge.

Q IS FOR THE QUIET ONES

And it's always the quiet ones, isn't it? You and your fetishes, your ideas, your rules. I shouldn't have been surprised.

R IS FOR REG

My pet name for you. I admit I have abused it in the past, but I use it strategically now, wouldn't you agree, Reg?

S IS FOR SHARING

I miss sharing microphones with you. I know you will interpret this as blasphemy, but to hell with technology. I loved standing incredibly close to you on stage, invading your pristene bubble for extended periods of time, and singing with you, our mouths mere inches apart. We made a lot of fans uncomfortable (while thrilling others, I'm sure of it). And occasionally you'd react! Fuck, how many times was I tempted to kiss you, really kiss you in front of all those people? And now you've got that blasted face mic. While it's wonderful that you're free to roam around as you please, I wish I could still hold you hostage for an entire chorus.

T IS FOR TONGUE

I mean, I knew you'd be good at it. But you do it the way you play your guitar, with this relentless consistency and superhuman patience, and you just find what works and you keep doing it without stopping until...nothing could have prepared me.

U IS FOR UNREASONABLE

This is my new favorite word. I drop it into conversations all the time now and nobody notices or cares. Except you.

V IS FOR VERSE TWO

You know what? Call me about this one. After you get home if possible.

W IS FOR WALL

What is it with you and walls? Not that I'm complaining. You pushing me up against a wall or shoving me into some kind of alcove and having your way with me is a delight. Is it your way of retaliating against my constant invasions of your space? I hope so.

X IS FOR X

Remember that night when we took off to go see X play back in 1982? (83?) Nobody recognized us (that crowd had no reason to), and we were just a couple of fans in that hot, sweaty room, packed in there way too close. You were a little bit drunk, and somehow I was not. Your face was so beautiful, and you looked so happy there in the shadows, and for once you weren't mentally cataloguing the band's gear or trying to learn any of John Doe's tricks. You were just a kid at a rock show with his friend, and I was fortunate enough to have been that friend, and my god, I am still that friend. Where would I be without you?

Y IS FOR YOU

Where would I be without you?

Z IS FOR ZOO TV

Today I looked at some old photos from that tour, and I could lie and tell you it was for some high-minded anniversary project that Anton is cooking up, but it wasn't. I simply wanted to look at pictures of you from those years when the two of us...evolved. (And at the same time I was confronted with photos of myself, and I swear to Christ I would destroy our villa in Eze if it meant I could have my old face, and what the fuck, my old body back. I was so thin I actually looked tall occasionally.)

And you, my handsome and unreasonable lover. You have an excellent poker face. No one would know what we were doing then based on your expressions. As for me, well, it's a good thing half my face was covered by black plastic most of the time. That smirk had nothing to do with irony. That was me enjoying our secret.

You know those dreams where you're in a familiar house but you discover rooms you've never seen before? That's how I felt every day of that tour. You had opened a hallway in my soul that led to new rooms, and you were in all of them, some of them dark, some of them light, and some of them blue.

That one is about you as well.

 

\-----

 

"You rang?"

"Hello, Bono."

"Somehow I knew you'd be awake and at your computer."

"I'm always awake and at my computer. How is your arm?"

"That fucker sends you a sloppy high three. Did you like my little book about you?"

"It was really more of a pamphlet, but yes. Very much."

"Thanks for calling me. Happy new year, incidentally, The Edge."

"Same to you."

"I know I always say it, but this is going to be our year."

"Kind of fun to be underdogs again, isn't it?"

"We have something to prove now, and prove it we will."

"I can't wait. I really can't."

"Speaking of, would you like me to tell you about verse two?"

"I am on the proverbial pins and needles."

"I have discovered something."

"Let me guess: you've finally figured out what your lyrics mean."

"I did! I love when that happens, Edge."

"What song has revealed itself unto you today?"

" _Song for Someone_."

"That one is pretty straightforward, though. It's clearly about you and Ali."

"The first verse is. Today I discovered that the second one is about you."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"A conversation only we could make..."

"You break and enter my imagination..."

"Hmm."

"You were slow, Edge."

"Was I?"

"It took us something like fifteen years to have sex."

"Fair enough. 'To heal' doesn't quite work, but..."

"Moving on. The song is symmetrical. You can divide it right down the middle. Lines for Ali are followed by lines for you. I sing that first verse by myself, but you're singing with me in verse two."

"And the chorus."

"The chorus is a duet, and our voices are louder after the second verse. It's hard to tell your voice from mine. When we perform it, I think the current plan is for me to be on one end of the arena while you're on the other one, right?"

"Right."

"But in my mind I'll be sharing that mic with you."

"Bloody face mic. You're absolutely right. Plus it looks like I have a giant mole on my face."

"I have never once thought that."

"But now you won't be able to see anything else."

"Fuck you, Edge."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until March to do that."

"God damn it."

"I am touched by your song analysis, B."

"You should be. I don't write lyrics about just anyone unintentionally."

"Seriously, though. I love it."

"And your voice positively soars in that song, Edge. I always feel so connected with you when we harmonize. I feel less alone onstage. Safer."

"The vulnerability in your voice breaks my heart sometimes."

"You. I love you."

"I love you, B. I do have one question, though."

"What?"

"Were you under the impression that you would feel nothing the first time with me?"

"I couldn't exactly say 'searing pain,' now, could I?"

"You actually could sing that for my chorus and it would fit."

"You are insane."

"Think about it."

"I absolutely will not."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow officially became today a few minutes ago. Yes, please."

"Goodnight, love. Good luck with your right hand."

"Again I say fuck you, The Edge."

"Expect retaliation on the pamphlet."


	3. Transcendent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mirrors the previous one, and oddly enough, it contains a brief but hopefully fun young B/present day E scenario. This is something that spacemonkey was writing about at exactly the same time I was. Imagine my surprise when I read her "Voodoo Child." Total coincidence! :D Bono says something three times there that reminds me of something he mentions near the end, and I don't want to say anything else about that other than it makes an important thing...so dirty.
> 
> The woman at Fender was inspired by the hilarious Julie Klausner, who wrote the same line about Stephen Colbert for her brilliant show, "Difficult People." When I heard her say those words, I immediately thought of Edge. Please feel free to picture the woman at Fender as a fabulous, genius redhead.
> 
> I don't know where you can get perfect peaches in January, but I assume they're available to the beautiful people.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this and for your encouraging words. It means so much to me. <3

"Hello?"

"Edge. I had the best idea."

"It can't possibly be better than your 27 year-old ankles on my shoulders."

"Ehm. What?"

"You heard me."

"Oh... _oh_. Sorry to interrupt."

"Not a big deal."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did I find myself in that rather uncomfortable position?"

"It's funny: 27 year-old you didn't have a problem with it. In fact, you seemed to actively encourage it."

"So are we talking about present-day you with half-your-age me?"

"Oh yes."

"I need to know the backstory for this one."

"I'm not sure what you're looking for, but you know I don't require a byzantine story line to get off, B."

"Come on. Give me a hint. Please. And feel free to continue what you were doing."

"I don't know. Okay. We were at some kind of bar, alright, and we were strangers, but you were staring at me from across the room in that way of yours."

"Excellent. What was I wearing?"

"Any time I try to picture you at that age, you're wearing one of those vests and not much else."

"How slutty of me."

"And, you know, a pair of horrible pants."

"Ugh, we have got to get me out of those pants."

"Exactly."

"My hair? I know that's an incredibly important detail for you."

"Tied back. Earring."

"Wonderful. So I'm staring at you. Are you staring back?"

"I'm looking around, but whenever my eyes return to you, you're staring at me."

"It's because I need the kind of guidance only a sophisticated older man can give me."

"So I get up and walk over to you, tilt your head back, and I kiss you on the mouth. I don't care who sees it; I just give you what you seem to want, and you kiss back. Then I say, 'You're coming with me.'"

"Jesus Christ, you bet I am."

"You follow me out into the night, and my home is conveniently located right next door, of course."

"I love when that happens."

"We go up the stairs to my bedroom, close the door, and are all over each other. Your body is a furnace, and my teeth spend a long time on your gorgeous neck."

"Does my gorgeous mouth have anything to say during this process?"

"Interestingly, no. Your mouth is busy doing other things."

"Of course it is."

"I mean, you're moaning quite a bit."

"Ohh, Edge...yes, how could I help myself?"

"I strip you naked and push you onto the bed and the next thing you know..."

"My ankles are on your shoulders _(somehow)_ , and you're fucking me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Amazing how you don't have to do anything to ease me into it, especially with this being my first time, presumably."

"Indeed."

"And I'm murmuring your name, which I seem to know for whatever reason."

"Sure."

"You're calling me baby at this point, too."

"Right."

"Edge."

"Yeah."

"Edge..."

"Baby."

"And as you fuck me, you dominant older man, my hair's rubbing against the mattress and coming out of that ponytail, isn't it?"

"Ooh, good."

"Yeah."

"Keep going."

"And look at me there on the bed, Edge. It's dark, right?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It's dark, but moonlight is coming in through the blinds and making pale vertical white stripes all over my chest and legs and face--"

"Sure."

"Fuck, Edge, I'm just _so young_."

"Ohh..."

"You could have had me at that age, but you didn't. Still, you remember everything about me. I certainly felt your eyes studying me every night as I sang for you, all hot and sweaty with my shirt off."

"Always watching you."

"Taut muscles, hand on my cock, right on the cusp of orgasm, moaning your name, voracious for knowledge and, oh Edge, so curious. And you're going to teach me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Teach me how to fuck, Edge."

"Baby. Oh god."

"I need it so badly."

"Oh god."

"Come for me."

"Yes."

"Come for me."

"Ahhh..."

"Come for me."

"Baby..."

"Yeah. That's right."

"..."

"Still there?"

"Bono...my god."

"I love you."

"I love you, B. Ugh. I think I'm going to collapse now."

"Oh, don't mind me! I'll just go to that magical bar of yours and pick up...how about a 23 year-old you?"

"Heh, go right ahead."

"It's only a 31 year age difference. I really think we can make it work, Edge."

"I'll do anything you say."

"Always such an obedient boy. I'll put you through your paces, you can be sure of that, young the Edge."

"I wish you would."

"But that's a story for another night. I'll let you go."

"Wait. What was your amazing idea you just had to tell me?"

"Oh, that? For the tour I'm thinking: _blazers!_ For me at least part of the time. Right?"

"Sure, B."

"Maybe a little sparkly bit on it somewhere. _Right?_ "

"Obviously."

"It's perfect."

"You're perfect. I'll see you tomorrow at the thing."

"Go to sleep, Edge."

 

\-----

 

from: The E <\-------@gmail.com>

to: B <\-------@mac.com>

date: Mon, Jan 5, 2015 at 11:28 PM

subject: retaliation

6 January 2015

MEDIUM BOOK OF A MEDIUM-AT-BEST MAN: Edge's A to Z of The Bono

A IS FOR ADAM AND LARRY

Our brothers. Without them, would you and I have ever fallen in love? Sometimes I think about where we would be had Larry not put the notice on the bulletin board and had we not seen it on that particular day.

B IS FOR BONO

Our names are ridiculous.

C IS FOR CURIOUS

On the phone you mentioned the word "curious," and that's a sexy word. I love how curious you are, and you're curious about everything. Last week when I was visiting you and we were just sitting around reading, you had a magazine with maybe ten perfume samples in it, and you couldn't pass any of them up. You had to open every little flap and rub them on yourself until your body was a veritable crazy quilt of different fragrances.

D IS FOR DELICIOUS

That neck of yours.

E IS FOR EYEBROWS

I forgot to mention this the other night...that fantasy started with your eyebrows, of all things. When you were that age, they were one of my favorite things about you. And last night I remembered sitting beside you, asleep and sprawled out on a plane. You had spent a little too much time in the sun that day. Your eyebrows seemed slightly bleached as a result, and they looked as soft as a sparrow's feathers. I knew you wouldn't wake up if I touched them, and I couldn't help myself. I ran a finger along one, and it was downy and silken, and my finger slid across it so easily. You didn't stir, and I wanted to do it again. But I looked out the window and watched the clouds instead.

F IS FOR FACE

FYI, apparently it's written all over our faces. A few months ago I was at a meeting at Fender. It was just me and about a dozen other people, nothing too important, but I had to make an appearance. We took a break halfway through it, and I was on my way to get a glass of water when I passed a restroom. A voice bounced off the walls saying, "Well, he's way too smart to not _at least_ be bi," followed by some laughter. Then two women came out into the hallway where I was, and they both grinned and blushed as we passed each other. I heard one of them stage whisper, "Oh my god!" a few steps later. I just shook my head and chuckled. Kind of a fun compliment, actually.

G IS FOR GRISETTE

How many times have I watched you drink something from a bottle solely for the pleasure of seeing you wrap your lips around it? One night your sweet tooth was bothering you, and a Parisian waitress recommended a Belgian lambic beer to you called Grisette. It might as well have been raspberry Kool-Aid for adults. As usual, you offered to share your bottle with me, and I said yes. We handed it back and forth, and she asked me if I'd like my own. "Oh no, we prefer to share," you said, adding, "We share absolutely everything." You gave a cheeky grin and put the bottle in my mouth as I tried not to laugh. She winked at us knowingly and smiled.

H IS FOR HAIR

Obviously.

I IS FOR INANE

Only you would write a 6,000 word post in this juvenile format and put it out there for millions to read.

J IS FOR JUST BE GLAD...

...that I was there to edit it for you.

K IS FOR KINK

We're maybe a little less experimental than we were nearly 25 years ago (amazing), but patterns have emerged, haven't they? With one exception, we've alternated with each tour. You were dominant the last time, but now it looks like it's my turn again. I can't wait, baby.

L IS FOR LINES

You bemoan the lines on your face, but they reflect a life well-lived. Some come from your concern for others, and the rest are the result of love and laughter. It's as if Iris herself carved them onto your face. She would be so proud of you, B.

M IS FOR MOTHER

And this tour...wow, it's shaping up to be about your mother, isn't it? You've always shown a touching vulnerability when you perform, and that's why people love you, but I worry that these shows might overwhelm you. We need to talk about this.

N IS FOR NEBRASKA

Long ago, on a summer night in the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, our bus stopped at a gas station beside a corn field. Everyone went inside the station except you (with me following you). The night was a humid pollen stew, the din of the cicadas was deafening, and the corn was recovering from the day's punishing heat. You walked over to the field with your arms outstretched, the same way you would approach a stadium full of fans years later. You threw your head back and breathed deeply. I cleared my throat, and you looked over your shoulder at me. "Smell that, Edge. They've been cooking in the sun all day." You walked over to a stalk and pulled the husk off a young ear of corn and held it against your lips. "How many of them are out there?" you mused. Millions. So many millions.

O IS FOR ORGASM

You are a walking orgasm.

P IS FOR PLEASURE

You don't just eat a peach. You had some in a bowl by your bed, and I watched you sort through them until you found the heaviest, ripest one. You turned it around in your hands, admiring its sunset colors and fuzzy texture while planning your attack. You bit into it and groaned with joy. Its juice ran down your wrist, and you happily licked that off before biting into it again. I was about ask how you acquired those beautiful peaches and how irresponsible it was to eat non-locally-sourced fruit six months out of season, but then you offered me a bite, and it was phenomenally good. Then you licked the juice off my wrist and kissed your way up my arm. And I thought, how can I possibly deny my bedridden lover something that gives him so much pleasure?

Q IS FOR QUEEN

Freddie could tell just by looking at you.

R IS FOR ROCK STAR

I see the things no one else does. I've watched inspiration dilate your pupils. I've watched you walk into a recording booth, sing as though your very life were on the line, and walk out to steal a bite of my sandwich. I see your insomnia, your insecurities, your exhaustion, your nerves. I see your face during that sacred moment before the game face covers it.

S IS FOR STRONG

You're going to get through this. I believe in you.

T IS FOR THE

I think you should also be saddled with a "The."

U IS FOR US

"There is no them, only us." Your voice is hypnotic there, and I'm interested to see how our audience will react to it. That line sounds like an embrace feels, and when you take it up an octave, it becomes a plea for an embrace. How do you do that? How do you simply know?

V IS FOR VERY SOON

We will be in rehearsals. You will be talking about a hundred things at once. You'll glance over at me, and I will give you a look. You will lose your train of thought. I will nod, and then you will follow me.

W IS FOR WOMEN

We are so fortunate to have Ali and Morleigh beside us, and the fact that they understand our need to be together is nothing short of miraculous. I like to imagine that we form a single organism where each of us--all four of us--performs a function that is vital to its survival. We love and need the women in our lives as much as we love and need each other. Morleigh has always understood this. We preceded her, after all, and Ali, bless her, seemed to understand what was happening between us long before we did. Our arrangement is unconventional to say the least, but I'm glad we have been able to find a balance where everyone feels safe and adored.

X IS FOR X

We went to see X?

Y IS FOR YOU

It is always you.

Z IS FOR ZOO TV

Or rather, post-ZooTV, when we didn't know what to do with ourselves and ordinary life seemed impossible. We were brazen enough to attempt to renovate our property in Eze and live there all summer, eating and drinking too much and having just the right amount of sex, if you ask me. A summer of excess and half-assed carpentry projects. This episode of our lives deserves its own A-Z list, honestly. You told a reporter it was our summer of love with a straight face, as if this were the kind of thing all men do at least once or twice in their lives. "It was our summer of love." You actually said that.

I love you. Give me a call.

 

\-----

 

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Your list was better than both of mine combined, I hope you know."

"I simply had more time to think about it."

"Reg. You know I'm a sucker for this kind of thing. How many memories of me do you have stored in that gigantic brain of yours?"

"Something like seventeen."

"Seriously. I don't know if you have a photographic memory, but whatever you have, it's close."

"Thanks, B. How is your arm today?"

"Only slightly less humiliating than yesterday. Elbow is cooperating. Fingers are not. I'm doing the mastodon's tasks, and it's all very boring and horrible."

"I'm sorry. One day at a time."

"I love that aphorism. I'm just nuts about it. But on to more interesting news. Such as _you kissed me in front of actual people this morning, the Edge_. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I was happy to see you."

"I'll say you were. And while it wasn't an obvious kiss, it was definitely ambiguous. Definitely an eyebrow-raiser. I'm proud of you."

"I was glad my injured band mate was back on his feet, that's all."

" _'You're coming with me,'_ and the next thing I know we're in Adam's room-with-no-discernible-purpose and grinding up against each other like 32 year-olds. I couldn't concentrate on anything else for at least an hour."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"If this is any indication of what the tour is going to be like, I positively cannot wait."

"Actually, I think this tour will be difficult for me. I'm already going to be doing so much, plus now I'll have to think about moving around."

"We do tend to load everything onto your shoulders, don't we?"

"I'm just saying I may not be as responsive to you this time around. I mean, you can try, but don't be surprised if I miss a cue or hit a sour note, at least early on."

"Perfectly understandable. I don't want to cause problems for you."

"Thanks for saying that, Bono."

"Your aloofness will only add to your considerable mystique."

"I'm just a man trying to do his job."

"If I flirt with Adam instead, will it make you jealous?"

"Yes."

"Jealous in a good way?"

"Yes."

"Will you take it out on me later?"

"Of course."

"I can work with that."

"And I will make it up to you offstage with scenes such as the one this morning. Just try to get rid of me."

"Never."

"I know I will feel protective around you. It's already happening. The set list is not going to be easy for you, either. I mean, I can't imagine the kinds of feelings you'll be asked to process, night in and night out."

"Yeah. I hope I can pull it off. Do you think I can? I mean, at one point I'm going to be tearing up books and on my knees screaming for comfort. I'm not going to look like a fool, am I?"

"Impossible. I think people will be deeply moved. Just commit to what you're doing."

"Yeah."

"But don't stay in there too long, okay?"

"You know what song I'm dreading the most?"

" _Every Breaking Wave_."

"Without question."

"Your emotions are so raw it's almost hard to watch."

"I've thought about it, and I don't want to do it with a string section."

"Yeah?"

"Just you. I need you there on piano. Don't even look at me when you play. I don't think I could handle that. I won't be able to look at you, either. But I want the two of us to go into that dark place together."

"Of course, B."

"Thanks."

"I love you."

"This is going to be some year..."

"You will be transcendent."

"If you say so."

"You will be transcendent."


	4. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came to me a few sleepless nights ago--these two tend to wake me up during the wee hours, and that morning they made me cry, so I hope this is not too maudlin. I just do what they tell me.
> 
> Bono's shower remark is a line from "The Talented Mr. Ripley," where it was used to describe an ice box. The cornflower reference comes from fic writer waterhyacinth, who mentioned it in a story whose title I can't recall, but I've remembered that comparison for 13 years. Mr. Flaherty is completely made up, although I had a math teacher exactly like him. We probably all did. And I am assuming Iris had blue eyes.
> 
> The formatting in the first part looks fine on most devices, I hope. I tried to simulate texting.
> 
> Thanks for coming back!

Hey Edge, sorry to bother you.

                                                          Is everything okay?

Honestly, no.

                                                          How is he?

He's asleep now, but distraught.

                                                          I was going to come over in the morning, but...

No that's fine! I'm just worried.

                                                          He seemed oddly quiet today, and

Subdued.

                                                          Exactly.

It's his hand. He misses playing.

                                                          Has the mastodon been ramping things up?

Apparently. His entire body aches.

                                                          Frustrating.

There were a few tears.

                                                          Oh Ali.

Anyway. If there's anything you can think of.

                                                         I'll do my best.

See you in the morning, love.

                                                         Love you.

 

\-----

 

"I know I'd be going out of my mind if I were him. I've had my share of aches and pains, but to face the possiblility of never dancing again?" Morleigh looked out the kitchen window at the drizzly January morning and exhaled, shaking her head. "An injury like that is devastating."

Edge patted various pockets on his winter coat--phone, keys, wallet--and picked up his guitar case. "I can certainly empathize with him. But at the same time...I'm not what anyone would call reckless."

Morleigh smiled and hugged him. "And yet you're still so sexy." Edge noticed a crooked watercolor by the door and reached over her shoulder to straighten it. "You know what it must be like for him?" she asked, admiring the delicate still life. "He's like a painter who suddenly can't use blue anymore. The color's just not available or something. Maybe it's gone forever. And he could still paint, sure, and probably make beautiful things, but it's not the same without blue."

Edge blinked. "I love that."

She held up a finger and said, "One second before you leave..." She picked up a box of dark chocolates. "For Ali."

"Hey, I thought those were for us."

Morleigh waited a beat then said with a wink, "I'm sure she'll share."

Edge laughed and gave her a kiss. "You."

"Me."

 

\-----

 

"You're having some of this, non-negotiable," Ali said, cutting into a warm apple cake as Edge placed the chocolates on the kitchen counter.

"Those are from Morleigh," Edge said, sitting down on a nearby bar stool. "And you know that cake is my favorite."

"So does _he_. In fact, he asked me to make it for you as a sort of preemptive apology."

"Heh. He would."

"Oh Edge, I love these chocolates! Tell her thanks." Ali said, opening the box and giving one to him along with the cake.

"You've been making this for as long as I can remember," Edge said, taking a bite. "Dangerously good as always, Ali."

"It's healthy because it's fruit, you see."

"Obviously."

Edge studied Ali's lovely but tired face. "I hate to see him like this," she said. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I might have a couple."

Ali tilted her head, hearing faint footfalls elsewhere in the house. "That's the mastodon!" she whispered excitedly. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Nothing would make me happier," Edge whispered back.

"You are in for a treat."

"What in fact is his actual name?"

"Bernd. Got it?"

"Got it."

Ali grinned and dashed out into the hallway. "Bernd? Bernd!" she called. "Do you have a spare moment before you leave? There's someone here who wants to meet you."

Edge quickly finished his cake, pocketed the chocolate, and joined her. Both of them smiled at the diminutive German of indeterminate age who approached them while struggling with his coat's zipper. "This fucker," he muttered before looking up at Ali.

"Bernd, this is Edge."

"Very good to meet you, Bernd."

Bernd's jaw dropped and he gave up on his zipper. "Oh my god."

Edge laughed. "I've heard so much about you."

"Oh my god. You are the Edge."

"That's what they call me."

"I'm such a fan."

"I'm such a fan of _you_. How is he doing?"

"Wow. _Wow_. Shit. Okay. He is doing very well, as a matter of fact. I'm afraid I have not made it easy for him."

Edge nodded. "You're doing your job, and I want to thank you for helping him recover."

"It is my pleasure. I will say it is hard not to be star struck around him. He loves you and talks about you all the time."

"He was sore yesterday and rather discouraged," Ali said.

Bernd tried his best to slip back into professional mode."Yes, and I'm afraid the same might be true again today. We've moved into the second phase of his therapy, and he will find it challenging. Most patients discover that after a couple of months, the novelty of being injured has worn off, and certain depressing realities--and hard work--must be faced."

"Yes, that seems to be happening."

"He is lucky to have such a supportive wife and friend. I am certain he will recover by spring. Maybe not his hand, but his elbow for sure." Bernd fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I'm sorry, I hate to ask, but could I...?"

"Of course."

"I'll take it," Ali offered.

"Thank you so much, Ali. Edge. The Edge."

"Just Edge. My friends call me Edge. I insist." Ali had a preternatural understanding of every phone's camera and effortlessly snapped several very good photos.

"Oh my. Edge, then. Thank you. See you tomorrow, Ali. Wonderful to meet you, Edge."

"The Edge get the _fuck_ in here please!"

Edge rolled his eyes in the general direction of Bono's room. "Duty calls."

Bernd and Ali nodded knowingly. "Enjoy," she said as Edge turned with a casual salute.

He found Bono struggling to remove a long-sleeved t-shirt that was imprisoning his arms and head. His muffled voice asked, "If you are quite finished ogling my midsection, would you mind helping me out of this?"

Edge stifled a laugh, assessed the situation, and attempted to free Bono's right arm first. "Shouldn't you be wearing shirts that button up the front or something?"

"Yes, but maybe this morning I wasn't _feeling like wearing them_ , okay? Fucking _ow_ , Edge, take it easy."

"It is a very cute shirt, I'll give it that." Edge said, figuring it was one of probably two dozen identical black shirts. He stretched it over Bono's head and carefully pulled the sleeve off his left arm.

"Did Ali give you some cake? Fuck, it's cold in here," Bono said, looking around for his bathrobe, annoyed.

Edge touched Bono's cheek, looked into his eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths. Bono's face softened and eventually he joined him, breathing. "That shirt went on a lot more easily than it came off," Bono admitted sheepishly. "Sorry for yelling."

"You were clearly in the midst of a crisis while I was engaging in small talk with the mastodon."

" _That guy._ That guy had the nerve to talk to you and Ali after what he did to me this morning?"

"He seemed perfectly ni--"

"Don't let his sweet little face fool you, Edge. The man is a sadist. Where is my robe?"

"Wait, let me look at you," Edge said gently. He touched the formerly-broken collarbone and left arm, still decorated with fading bruises and thin, pink scars. As if it were competing for attention, his right shoulder boasted an unrelated purple mystery bruise. Edge smiled at it.

"Yeah, I have no idea what happened there," Bono shrugged.

"You treat your body like it's an inconvenience, you know. And yet it's still so beautiful," Edge said affectionately, kissing the places that needed it most.

"Well, I guess you had to see this train wreck sooner or later," Bono said self-consciously, turning his head and watching Edge and himself in a mirror. "Jesus Christ," he sighed, regarding his messy, two-toned hair, pale, healing body, and haggard face.

"What I see is a miracle. Look at how far you've come, B." Edge couldn't conceal the emotion in his voice. "You're getting stronger every day."

"I love you for saying that."

"It's true. I'm so proud of you." Edge lifted Bono's chin and kissed him tenderly.

Bono smiled. "Wanna watch me take a shower?"

"Have I ever said no?"

"Let's go."

"I'm going to grab my guitar. You go ahead."

"You'll play while we're in there?"

"Sure, why not?"

Bono made his way to the bathroom, confident that at that moment he was the only man in Ireland about to be serenaded by a world-class guitarist. Probably the entire northern hemisphere, too, and possibly the planet.

Edge returned a couple of minutes later with his beloved Gibson J-200 and, finding no other alternatives, he sat on the toilet while Bono turned on the shower. Six jets of water hit his right and left sides, while an oversized ceiling showerhead simulated rainfall. The glass door fogged up immediately, and he wiped a clear circle with his hand so he could see Edge. "I could fuck this shower, I love it so much," he said with a grin before retreating into the fog, and Edge hoped the steam that billowed over the door wouldn't harm his guitar.

"Any requests?" he asked over the hiss of the water. "Do you want to sing along?"

"Maybe. The acoustics in here are phenomenal; I made sure of that," Bono said. "I dunno. Surprise me."

Edge thought for a moment, smiled to himself, and began playing the theme from _Rocky_. Bono recognized it after a few seconds and laughed while shadowboxing and approximating lyrics. "You be careful in there," Edge warned before tearing into the refrain. He thought he heard Ali's laughter from the kitchen.

Changing gears, and continuing his 1970s movie medley, Edge set his sights on the theme from _Shaft_ to applause from the shower. After meandering through the song's complicated structure for a while, he finally arrived at its perfect lyrics, reciting with the deepest voice he could manage, "Who's the black private dick that's a sex machine with all the chicks?"

"Edge!"

"Damn right."

Bono laughed with delight. "They say this cat Edge is a bad mutha--"

"Shut yo mouth!"

He was positive he heard Ali's laughter that time.

Unable to top that, Edge switched to some random song fragments while Bono finished his shower. "I wish I could play like you, Edge. I wish I could play at all," Bono said, his voice melancholy as he turned off the water.

Edge paused and tossed him a towel. "Morleigh had an interesting observation. She said you were like a painter who wasn't able to use blue anymore."

Bono thought about that while he towel-dried his hair and ran his fingers through it. "Yeah. That's a good way to explain it." He looked at his left hand. "This hand is my blue. Was my blue--it doesn't even feel like a hand. I want it back."

"I want it back for you, too." Edge looked at his guitar thoughtfully for a moment. Then, inspired, he turned the instrument upside down, with his left hand strumming awkwardly and his right hand on the suddenly-confusing fretboard.

"Well, if it isn't Jimi Hendrix himself sitting on my toilet," Bono said, pulling on some track pants and a knit shirt that buttoned up the front and was nowhere near as cute as his other one.

Edge attempted to play the main riff from _Purple Haze_ and failed spectacularly. "Christ, how did he even _begin_ to do that?"

"I think the question is: why are _you_ doing that, Edge?"

Edge cocked his head and tried to figure out where to put his fingers for an upside down D chord. "Do you remember Mr. Flaherty, that math teacher we had? I think you were in his class at some point."

"Him? Kind of. Yeah. He was terrible! I didn't learn a thing."

"He was probably the most brilliant mind Mt. Temple had ever seen, but he was thinking at a level so far beyond ours that he couldn't teach us. He couldn't remember what it was like to be a beginner." Edge's D chord sounded more like a W chord.

"I assume you nevertheless thrived under his regime." Bono sat on the tile floor and fiddled with Edge's shoelaces.

"Well, sure, but that's only because I taught myself."

"I'm enjoying this boastful trip down memory lane."

"Yes, thanks. See, I've been playing for so long it's become second nature to me. Muscle memory has hardwired the connection between my hands and my brain. I've forgotten what it's like to have no control. Playing upside down is helping me understand what's going on with you." Edge found the D chord, sort of, but strumming it didn't feel right at all. "And, wow."

"Oh, Edge." Bono leaned over and kissed Edge's knee and moved to get up.

Edge continued to try to play upside down as he followed Bono back to his bedroom. Bono cleared a spot on his bed for Edge to sit, pushing a mountain of newspapers and magazines aside. "You are aware there's an invention called the internet where you can read all of this stuff on your phone or computer, yes?"

"I was unaware of that, the Edge."

Edge tried to make sense of his guitar one last time and gave up. It probably needed to be restrung for a left-hander, at the very least. "That was really hard, B. I'm so sorry you have to deal with this."

Bono sat down beside him and touched Edge's cheek. "I'm glad it's me and not you."

Edge leaned into his hand. "You realize your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen, don't you?"

"They're like my mother's. I wish you could have known her." He gazed out at the rain.

"Bono." Edge slid a cool hand up Bono's still-warm back, and they resumed eye contact.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I'll be driving in the summer and see some cornflowers by the side of the road, and they'll make me ache with love for you."

"Edge." They smiled at each other and kissed for a minute, entranced and content inside their carnal, protective bubble.

Bono moaned softly, focused his attention on Edge's ear, and whispered, "I want to hear one of our new songs. I wish I could have played them with you a bit more."

Edge took a deep breath and opened his eyes as Bono turned the guitar around. He had an idea. "Wait a minute. Maybe you can." Edge set the guitar aside, pushed himself backwards on the bed, and parted his legs. "You sit here," he said, indicating the gap.

"Okay..." Bono said, bemused. He nestled into the spot between Edge's legs and leaned back against his chest.

Edge positioned the guitar on Bono's lap. "You strum, and I'll play the cords, how about that? That way you can at least sort of play."

Bono looked back at him. "Oh my god, Edge. This could work." He placed his right hand on the strings, and Edge held the guitar's neck in his left hand. "This is why I love you, you fucking genius," Bono said, leaning back to kiss his hero.

"What do you want to play?"

"I want a big dumb rock song."

" _Joey Ramone_ it is. Why don't we try the chorus?" Edge placed his fingers in G. "Go ahead."

Bono strummed, and though the arrangement was a bit awkward and slow at first, it worked. Edge moved from G to D to B to A and back to G as Bono sang with joy:

_I woke up at the moment when the miracle occurred._

_I get so many things I don't deserve (such as Edge)_

_Everything I've ever lost, now has been returned_

_In the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard_

They sang the oh-oh-oh sequence together, their guitar and voices echoing through the house. Bono placed his fingers over Edge's as he moved them over the frets, like a child learning how to dance by standing on a parent's feet. He gazed at Edge in disbelief and love during last cords.

They heard applause and saw Ali standing in the doorway clapping her hands. "The two of you could not be more adorable," she beamed.

"A little side show we're working on for the E stage," Bono grinned as Ali approached them. "His idea."

"It's brilliant, Edge." Ali kissed Edge's cheek, then Bono's. He winked at her and began to sing:

_You've got a face not spoiled by beauty..._

Bono nodded at Edge, who placed his fingers in F sharp.

_I have 516 scars from where I've been_

_You've got eyes that can see right through me_

_You're not afraid of anything they've seen_

Bono continued singing the song to Ali, who watched them with great affection. Near the end of the chorus, Ali walked over and touched Edge's shoulder, leaning in to whisper, "I know this verse is yours, love," before waving at them fondly and closing the door.

Edge hummed along as Bono finished the second verse:

_I am slow to heal but this could be the night_

The two harmonized during the chorus, their voices soaring, and Bono became emotional as he sang:

_I'm a long way from where I was and where I need to be._

Edge used his spare hand to wipe away the tear he knew was there and took over, singing quietly:

_There is a light you can't always see_

_And there is a world we can't always be_

_I know there are plenty of reasons to doubt_

_But there is a light, don't let it go out._

Bono set the guitar on the bed and leaned back into Edge's embrace. "I like that little change."

Edge kissed the side of his neck. "Do you know why I kiss this so often?"

"Tell me," Bono said, and Edge could feel his voice resonating in his chest. He continued to kiss his neck.

"It's the home of your voice. This is where it comes from." He felt Bono's pulse beneath his lips. "Your voice is my muse, and your neck is worthy of my worship."

"You are turning me all the way on, Reg," Bono sighed.

"So are you, baby."

"Please?"

"Patience, love." Edge put his arms around Bono's chest, and the two were quiet for a while.

Bono caressed Edge's hands and said, "You have done so much for me this winter. But I hope you don't feel like this is something you have to do."

Edge pressed his forehead against the back of Bono's head. "I don't have to do it. I get to do it."

"Are you sure?"

"I _get_ to carry you, remember?"

Bono squeezed Edge's hand with as much strength as he could manage. "Edge. You're my blue."


	5. Over the Hills and Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I considered cutting this chapter in half because it's a long one, but I didn't, so be like Bono and Edge here and pack a lunch.
> 
> As you read this you might ask, "Is this place real?" Yes. It exists, and it's one of the most amazing places I've ever seen, and the sheep there are incredibly cute. I don't know if Dingle shuts down in the winter, but I get the impression that it does. That bar is a dive, but I'm making it sound worse than it is. I hope the little dog is still there. "[S]he remembers me!" is a line I stole from "Archer." You can go looking for the thing they've hidden in this story, but it doesn't exist as far as I know, but we can always hope. I'm confident the rock that resembles Bono's nose, sort of, exists.
> 
> Shout out to the great fouroux for your support and enthusiasm for this story. I appreciate your comments, and everyone else's comments, more than I can say.

from: LMJr <\--------@gmail.com

to: B <\-------@mac.com>, The E <\-------@gmail.com>

date: Mon, Feb 9, 2015 at 8:15 PM

subject: Clayton

Fair warning, a certain bullshit holiday is coming up on Saturday and Adam has bought Mariana a purse that costs as much as a mid-size four door sedan.

Fucking xoxoxoxo, Larry

 

from: B <\-------@mac.com>

to: The E <\-------@gmail.com>, LMJr <\--------@gmail.com

date: Mon, Feb 9, 2015 at 8:45 PM

subject: Clayton

Thank you for the timely reminder, Larry. We do not want to repeat what happened last year. To that end, rest assured I have been working on this already, as I have nothing to do all day except fucking run on treadmills and do goddamn sit-ups and engage in other fucked up activities that are not even elbow or hand related. And when it is time to do the elbow and hand activities, those are complete bullshit too. Get this: the mastodon had me squeezing balls for a half hour today. And no, not the fun kind; you can go straight to hell, Mullen.

Kisses 'n' rainbows,

B

 

from: The E <\-------@gmail.com>

to: B <\-------@mac.com>, LMJr <\--------@gmail.com

date: Mon, Feb 9, 2015 at 8:52 PM

subject: Clayton

Yes, certain un-subtle hints have been dropped over here recently, and I have taken the necessary steps to ensure that this current era of peace in the Steinberg/Evans household continues. Having said that, $634 for a slip from La Perla is highway motherfucking robbery, and that's the tip of the goddamn iceberg.

Cuddles, my darlings,

E

 

\-----

 

"Hello?"

"Good evening, the Edge."

"Sorry to hear about all the ball-squeezing."

"Let's just say you will not want to be on the receiving end of these skills I'm developing."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Are we going to do the thing this year?"

"The extended forecast hints at a warming trend for early next week. Do you think the mastodon will give you a day off, B?"

"Way ahead of you. Yes. Because it's exercise. There is a _component_ of exercise. And if he wants me to squeeze something, I can think of a certain appendage of yours I've been dying to wrap my hand around since November."

"That would go against our arrangement."

"The arrangement is unreasonable. Let me go on record as saying that, Edge."

"I would like to go on record as saying you won't know the meaning of the word unreasonable until you are face down on a mattress in Nice twenty days from now."

"I fucking love you. So can you go ahead and set everything up for sometime next week, please? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...whatever you think is best."

"Not a problem."

"But I'll miss you this week, Edge."

"Sorry about that."

"What kind of family has a reunion in the dead of winter, anyway?"

"The thoughtful kind that can accomodate one member's insane commitment to spending nine months traveling around the world with three of his friends from school."

"Heh. Of course. Enjoy Los Angeles."

"I'll be back before you know it."

"I'm going to have a surprise for you when you return."

"I thought we agreed that Valentine's Day was for Morleigh and Ali and our gift to each other was not having to do anything."

"This has nothing to do with Valentine's Day."

"If you say so. Thanks in advance, I suppose...?"

"Oh, you'll be thanking me."

"You will dress for the weather this time, won't you?"

"That was a freak snow storm and you know it."

"Just check the forecast and be prepared for anything. This is Ireland, you know."

"One second...one second...yes. Yes. My sources are telling me that this is in fact Ireland."

"I'm so glad you finally have sources. I'll let you know exactly what's going on once we get closer to next week, okay?"

"Thanks, Reg. Have a safe trip."

"I love you, B."

 

\-----

 

"When was the last time we did this, anyway?"

"2009, and holy shit, look at you!"

Bono leered wickedly and flung his green hat onto a seat across the aisle from Edge, where it was soon joined by his black wool coat. "Do you fucking love it?" he asked, preening and slipping into the leather seat beside Edge's.

Edge laughed. "Absolutely I do. It's so...yellow...?" he asked, touching Bono's hair tentatively.

"I believe the correct term is blonde, Reg, and I warned you it was coming, and I expect you to get on board with this immediately."

"Oh, I am fully on board, B. I love that you are giving zero fucks this year."

"I have plenty of fucks to give you, the Edge."

"It's perfect. Seriously. It's going to look incredible under the lights, too."

"Right?"

"Seat belt." Bono pretended to have trouble with the buckle, thus forcing Edge to reach across and do it for him while Bono playfully bit his shoulder.

The two settled down long enough to acknowledge the approach of their alluring flight attendant Leelah, the same woman who served them Gewürztraminer on a long-ago flight to New York. Bono subsequently rescued her from Aer Lingus and hired her as a crew member and occasional sommelier for U2's private jet. She smiled at Bono's hair. "Well, aren't you a golden god?"

"Now, see, that was the response I was looking for," Bono said, kissing Leelah's hand. "Thank you so much for joining us on this unreasonably early morning, Leelah."

"My pleasure as always." Leelah blinked and looked at the ceiling.

"Those can't be tears in your eyes, now."

She exhaled. "It's just such a relief to see you well again. I've been so worried."

"The last time you saw me I was not at my best."

"It broke my heart. And you kept telling me my aura was orange."

"Well, I was enjoying a mother lode of fantastic drugs."

"But you've recovered beautifully. It's wonderful to see. Don't you agree, Edge?"

"He's worked so hard to get to this point, and we're all very proud of him."

Leelah said, "Of course. Well, okay. As you know, it's an hour flight to Kerry, and I assume you'll return sometime this afternoon?"

"I'll try to have us back by 4:00," Edge said.

"Wonderful. I'll have time to do a bit of shopping."

"For Mr. Leelah?"

"Possibly. And perhaps I'll find something for you little scamps as well if you're lucky."

"I'm the luckiest man alive," Bono said, stretching his arms.

"That you are. Let me know if there's anything you need. We'll be taking off soon."

"I'm dying for a piece of lemon meringue pie," Bono said with smile.

"Aren't we all?" Leelah said vaguely before wandering off to her seat. Bono and Edge exchanged looks that said _We only hire the best people._ They settled in, and soon they were on their way to Kerry Airport.

"So how did you handle Valentine's Day this year?" Edge asked after they had reached cruising altitude.

"I think you'll be proud of me for this one, actually. I convinced all four kids to send me family photos that have been languishing in their phones and computers for years, and I had one of Steve Averill's proteges create a book of them."

"I'll bet Ali loved it. That's actually a really good idea. Mind if I do it too sometime?"

"Only if you promise to write, 'Concept by Bono, whom I owe a great deal,' on the first page. No, 'whom I owe my actual life.'"

"It's not that great of an idea. What did she get you?"

Bono grinned joyfully. "She gave me permission to talk about her every night during the tour."

"Ha! What are you going to say?"

"Only that she's perfect and I'm still trying to impress her. I wanted to put her face on the screen, too, if only for a second, but she vetoed that in a hurry."

"That woman is one of a kind."

"Isn't she?"

"Does she like your hair?"

"She can't stop looking at it."

"Heh."

"And what did you get Morleigh?"

"You know, a bunch of silky things she's been eyeing, plus two pairs of shoes. She can wear one wherever she likes, and the other is incredibly sexy but too impractical to walk even five steps in." Edge winked.

"I'm going to guess those shoes are for your benefit."

"Oh, it's a win-win situation."

"I like wearing high heels, too, you know."

"Also a win-win."

Bono reclined his seat and impulsively pressed the button on Edge's armrest so his did the same. They faced each other and smiled. "God, look at you," Edge sighed, gently stroking the hair over Bono's ear.

 

\-----

 

They arrived in Kerry's small airport shortly thereafter, deftly sidestepping security and driving away in the Nissan Micra that Edge had arranged. Edge set the GPS for Dunquin, home of the westernmost bar on Dingle, Ireland's westernmost peninsula. Meanwhile, Bono plugged his phone into the car's console, shuffled through his music files until he found Led Zeppelin's _Houses of the Holy_ , and pressed play. The two nodded at each other, their small, complementary tasks finished and their trip underway.

"2009. Six years, really?" Bono asked rhetorically, trying to recall all that had happened during that time: a mammoth world tour, a long-delayed album, countless nights in each other's arms. He gazed out the window, the morning sun illuminating his hair while Edge eased the car onto R561. They watched the patchwork quilt-like landscape roll by in relative silence: stone fence, pasture, hedgerow, field, stone fence. They both knew why the car had to be so small: the peninsula's roads were intimidatingly narrow. They both knew why Bono was playing this album: the peninsula's steep, misty hills reminded him of its cover, and he always expected to see pink, curly-haired children crawling up them. Bono and Edge had discussed these points every other time they had taken this trip. This was their fifth time, and it was comforting to remember these conversations instead of repeating them.

Bono leaned over and put his head on Edge's shoulder. "You're friends with him. Do you think Jimmy Page and Robert Plant ever...?"

"I doubt it," Edge said. "They have such a weird power dynamic. Jimmy told me he envies us. I think we take it for granted: the four of us are equals who truly like each other."

"And fuck each other," Bono mumbled with a chuckle.

"And fuck each other."

"Not nearly enough these days, though."

"You've got to admit it's sort of fun, though, right?"

"Not being fucked by you is the most fun I've had in years, Edge."

Edge exited onto N86, one of the peninsula's infamous skinny roads. It wound its way around dozens of steep hillsides dotted with chubby white sheep. Bono tried to resist the urge to ask Edge to pull over--he had asked every time they had taken this trip--but the sheep were irresistible. "Edge? The sheep." Edge laughed and dutifully pulled over. Bono hopped out and leaned against a fence, yelling, "Attention, sheep! My name is Bono and I love every last one of you fat motherfuckers!" One sheep looked at him. "Especially you!" The sheep returned to grazing and Bono returned to the car. "It's about traditions, Edge," he said.

"You are an actual leprechaun."

 

\-----

 

About a half hour later, after clinging to a variety of vertiginous slopes and ridges that provided dramatic vistas and opportunities for white-knuckle driving, they arrived on the outskirts of Dingle. A charming tourist trap during the summer, Dingle was understandably subdued in winter as it braved the Atlantic's nonstop wrath for several months. This was why Edge was able to sneak into one of the few restaurants open during the off-season without being recognized. Disguised with a baseball cap, he purchased a couple of sandwiches and drinks while Bono waited in the car. "This is the best time to travel," he said triumphantly, placing his purchases on the back seat and taking his coat off.

"No question about it."

"We can go to Kruger's the fast way or the scenic way. Twenty minutes' difference. What do you think?"

"Scenic, of course."

"Good." Edge got the car back on the road, and Bono took his hand.

"I feel like I'm on the edge of the world when we take this route. Like I'm literally clinging to the earth's crust."

"Me too."

Led Zeppelin had long since stopped playing, but they didn't notice. The road marked the perimeter of the small peninsula, and they seemed to be the only ones on it. Bono was treated to sweeping views high above the ocean while Edge drove with the countryside at his right. One false move and half of U2 would have fallen off the cliff and into the water, but Edge was an excellent driver, and the weather was unseasonably fair. He let go of Bono's hand, though, and put both hands on the steering wheel, just to be on the safe side. Bono moved his hand along Edge's upper thigh. "The muscles in your legs are so firm."

"That's because this is a pretty tense driving situation, B."

"Sure, but...you look so good. You should always wear jeans this tight."

"Oh, you think so?"

"Yes. On stage especially. I want to be able to look over at you and see everything you've got, Reg."

Edge gave a little smile, his eyes on the road. "If you like."

"I love." Bono pushed the short sleeve of Edge's shirt up a couple of inches. "And I want your sleeves to end here. Your arms look incredible."

"Whatever you say."

Bono traced a letter B onto Edge's arm with a finger then turned to watch the sun's sparkling reflection on the waves below them. "I love that we're doing this again."

They were quiet the rest of the way to Kruger's, a plain yellow pub with a brown roof on R559. Notable only for its sign that said "Next Pub Boston," the below-average dive was nevertheless an integral part of this excursion. Barely confident that the place was even open at 11:00, Edge parked the car, took his coat and the sandwiches, and he and Bono tried the door. It opened to a dimly lit, musty interior with a bar at one end and a smattering of tables elsewhere. They ordered a couple of pints of Guinness from the gruff proprietor, who didn't give two shits about who they were, and took them to a table outside. It was barely warm enough to be comfortable, but they didn't mind.

A small brown dog scampered around their feet as they sat down and looked out at dormant grass, rusty lawn furniture, and used pallets. "You're still here!" Bono exclaimed, petting the dog. She could barely contain herself. "She remembers me, Edge."

Edge sat on a mismatched wrought iron chair decorated with intimidating-looking spikes and raised his glass, "To the tour."

"To the tour." Bono found a lawn chair that had seen better days, squinted at the sun, and took a pair of blue sunglasses from his coat pocket.

"Those are new."

"They're the prototype for what I'll wear at the shows. Do you like them?"

"They're cool. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like them before. And Christ, your eyes might as well be lasers."

"Blue on blue."

"Indeed."

"Wanna do me a favor, Reg?"

"Okay."

"Unbutton that second button. And the next one. There we go. Much better."

Edge took a deep breath. "The angle of the sun is changing."

"It smells like spring."

"Yeah."

"Now give me one of those sandwiches."

 

\-----

 

They nursed their pints and were content taking in their surroundings and discussing tour minutiae with each other for about an hour until they sensed they were being watched by the bartender. Bono gave a few sandwich scraps to the ecstatic dog and soon they were back in the car. "I hope it's still there," he said.

"Of course it is."

Bono played _Over the Hills and Far Away_. By the time the song was over, they had reached their destination, a place called Waymount, one of a series of wedge-like mini-peninsulas that jutted out into the ocean like stubby fingertips. Each began nearly at sea level and ended with a dramatic cliff two hundred feet above the ocean. Normally a handful of cars could be seen parked along the side of the road, but once again February was on their side, and Bono and Edge had Waymount all to themselves. "It feels so good to be back," Bono said, changing into a pair of hiking boots and putting his coat on. Edge did the same and made sure he had a Sharpie in his pocket. He grabbed a bottle of water and caught up with Bono, who had already started to climb the long, gentle slope. A sort of path had been created by hikers, but gray rocks of every shape and size were strewn everywhere, so Edge took Bono's arm to slow him down and keep him safe.

They walked facing the sun all the way to Waymount's pointed tip and looked out at the Atlantic Ocean. Their neighboring mini-peninsulas jutted defiantly into the waves like ships' prows. Bono and Edge felt profoundly small as they leaned into the cool breeze. They were as close to America as they could get and still be in Ireland. Edge watched the waves crash far below them on the shore. Bono pointed due west and said, as was his custom, "Let's get 'em."

Edge stood beside Bono, kissed him, and gently held his left hand. "Sing your song, love."

"It's kind of on the nose, I'm afraid."

"Doesn't matter. It's the one."

"Sing with me."

"Okay."

Bono took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Every breaking wave on the shore..." Edge joined him then listened in awe as Bono tore into the choruses, each "if you go" more powerfully heartbreaking than the last as they tumbled out over the ocean. By the end of the song, he was trembling and had to sit down on the rocks.

"Again, how am I going to sing that thing every night?"

"I have no idea," Edge said, joining him. "But I'll be with you." Edge put his arm around his shoulders and they looked out at the unfathomable western horizon, feeling like the only people in the world.

"Let's find it," Bono said, breaking the silence. "It's around here somewhere." It didn't take them long to locate the large white rock, conveniently shaped like Bono's nose, sort of, and with a bit of effort they overturned it. Underneath was a clear plastic box that housed the ripped half of a hardback book cover in a Ziploc bag. "Hello, darling," Bono said, smiling.

Edge opened the box. The frayed green book cover was unchanged since they had last touched it, and they silently read what they had scrawled in marker on one side:

_Bono and Edge_

_1997 Popmart_

_2001 Elevation_

_2004 Vertigo_

_2009 360_

Edge took out his Sharpie, added _2015_ to the list, and Bono wrote _Innocence and Experience_. They looked at it for a moment, and Edge was about to wrap it up again when Bono said, "You know, we're running out of room there." Edge nodded. "I hope that doesn't mean this tour is the last one."

Edge uncapped his pen and put an arrow at the bottom of the book cover, and they smiled at each other. He wrapped it in the plastic and put it back in the box, and they hid the package under its rock. "I wish we would have brought along something a little classier back then," he said, recalling the first time he and Bono were there. Inspiration had struck 37 year-old Bono as they stood watching the waves. Desperate for something to write on, he yanked the cover off the back of a book he'd had with him. Edge's soundly-mocked Ziploc bag of trail mix came in handy as a protective sleeve that had somehow kept the book cover safe for four years.

Bono shook his head. "Nah, it's perfect. It'll be a sad day when we decide we're not touring anymore. You and I will have to come back here and retrieve it. And then the custody battle will begin."

"Dibs on weekends and summers."

"No, Edge! No." They gave each other playful shoves, took one last look at the ocean, and turned to walk back, hand in hand.

After they had gone several dozen yards, Bono turned to Edge and embraced him. "God, I miss it," he purred, insinuating a finger between Edge's collar and neck and moving it down slowly, as far as the buttons would allow. His lips followed.

"So do I." Edge looked down at Bono's bright hair, gleaming in the sunlight, and stroked the nape of his neck.

Bono glanced up. "You really like it?"

"There's something feminine or at least androgynous about it that's very interesting."

"Like David Bowie, or maybe Lou Reed? That was kind of my goal."

"Sure. But it goes beyond that."

"Yeah?"

"It makes you seem more fragile, somehow, so I want to protect you. But it also makes me want to dominate you. I want you under me."

"Good." They contemplated this as they continued walking. Bono thought of a dangerous word he could unleash if necessary.

Once they were back at the car, Edge took a long drink of water and gave Bono the rest. They got inside and Edge started the engine and set the GPS. Bono's hand was on his thigh almost immediately and moving up to a zipper on the much-admired jeans. "Oh, Edge..." Edge exhaled slowly through his teeth. "Find a place. Anywhere. There."

He pulled onto a dead-end gravel road that cut into a small grove of tall pine trees and parked in the dappled shade. They were embracing in an instant, kissing and clinging to each other like a couple of teenagers. Edge tilted Bono's seat back, and his tongue explored his mouth for a couple of minutes as Bono moaned beneath him. "God, Edge, please? I need to come and so do you."

Edge fondled Bono's erection through his jeans. "Show me what your right hand can do."

Breathless, Bono obliged, watching Edge with needy eyes and parted lips. Edge leaned back in his seat and did the same, studying his lover. Edge rarely indulged Bono in such risky public displays, but sometimes they were necessary. So completely necessary. So perfectly necessary and beautiful and sexy and right. _And if one wanted to be efficient, one could absolutely take care of things quickly and be back on the road and god his neck and his mouth and his hands were all over me today he is on fire for me and I need to fuck him and oh god I will I will..._

He gasped, caught his breath, and felt around for the handful of napkins that were in that bag on the seat behind him. His eyes were fixed on Bono, who seemed to be taking a more leisurely approach to their little gravel road escapade. Bono turned his head to the side and looked at Edge with the same seductive, enraptured expression he had seen a thousand times before. "Help me," he moaned softly.

Edge leaned over and kissed him, the kind of aggressive, territorial kiss he seemed to be needing. He thought he saw a slight twinkle in Bono's eye as he felt his right hand being dragged down a quivering torso to meet Bono's right hand. "Help me," he sighed again, his lips close to Edge's ear. He listened as Bono inhaled, and he knew he must have been smiling when he whispered, "Daddy."

Edge closed his eyes as he felt the word rip through his body. It was a lightning strike of a word, a doomsday device a word, and Bono knew it. The fact that he hadn't used it in a number of years made it even more devastating, and Edge lost his composure instantly. His mouth was mad to devour Bono, and his hand was more than happy to do his bidding. While technically he was still abiding by the rules he had set up a couple of months ago, he was just barely doing so. "Boy," replied. His hand was on top of Bono's, and it helped to fuel the kind of thunderous orgasm he had come to expect from this man, this beautiful man, his man, his boy.

"Oh my god, Edge," Bono whispered, coming down.

"Exactly."

"What's today's date?"

"The date? Uh, it's the 17th."

"Ten more days then, not counting today."

Edge smiled.

"And it better not be a fucking leap year."

"It's not."

"Good," Bono said, looking out the window and mouthing the word, "Daddy."


	6. Renaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am pretty sure I have one more chapter to go after this one. Thanks for staying with me and being patient. Christmas is a particularly crazy time to be writing or even just thinking about fic, and yesterday I had a tiny "wtf am I doing" moment. Thank you to ChooseToLive for unwittingly rescuing me with a well-timed, beautiful comment regarding my older stories (it's back on a comment thread in Chapter 4, I think). ChooseToLive also inspired some of the content in this chapter, which is a throwback to my ancient stories "Close" and "Closer." I haven't read them in over a decade, so I apologize if I've repeated anything too obviously here.
> 
> Disclaimers: other than the name, I totally made up the hotel and everything in it. Real hotels never seem fantastical enough for these two, in my opinion. Also I don't know if you can do that with titanium.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. It's another long chapter, and it is all about real, lasting love (and a personal kink of mine; sorry if it seems weird). The D/s dynamic is slightly inconsistent because you'd have to think Bono is a little on the bossy side, right?
> 
> Introducing two awesome new characters: Larry and Adam!

Can you be patient?

                                                                    Possibly.

I think if I see you between now and then...

                                                                    Yes?

I'll eat you alive.

                                                                    Will I be rewarded for my patience?

Of course.

                                                                    Funny what two syllables can do.

It is.

                                                                    I'll see you on the plane, D.

                                                                    Wow, even just a letter...

I'm going to sit next to Larry.

                                                                    Because of cannibalism?

Yes.

 

\-----

 

"This is Larry."

"Good morning."

"Hi Adam. Is your house as hectic as mine right now?"

"Probably not."

"In a word: teenagers."

"We're meeting in a couple of hours, then?"

"Yeah. Weird that it's just the four of us."

"Plus a skeleton crew, if a skeleton had two or three bones."

"No one has adequately explained to me why we're going there five days ahead of everybody else."

"I kind of like the idea of some compulsory relaxation as a group before it all starts up again. That hotel has a private beach, too."

"I can't wait to bask in the 59 degree sunshine."

"Well, for what it's worth, something is going on with Bono and Edge."

"When isn't it?"

"I visited Bono a couple of days ago. I could tell he was on some other wavelength. We had a good talk about it. His hair is blonde now, by the way."

"Jesus Christ. They're okay, aren't they?"

"Oh, they're more than okay, Larry. He was bouncing off the walls."

"Those two."

"I'm sure we'll find some way to hassle them about it."

"Absolutely. See you later."

"Later."

 

\-----

 

"Sit next to me, Adam." Bono, dressed in navy blue and black, fidgeted with his phone, opening and closing apps without really looking at them.

"Who are we waiting for--just Edge?" Adam checked to see if Larry was paying attention.

"Yes," Bono sighed, exasperated.

"It's not like him to be late," Larry said, pretending to commiserate.

"He is in fact two minutes late."

"Two whole minutes?"

"One hundred and twenty seconds. And counting."

"How rude," Adam said.

"He's doing this just to fuck with me, I swear to god."

Larry looked out the window. "Hey, don't worry. There's his car, Blondie. That is some kind of coat."

Edge collected his bags and slung a guitar case over his shoulder. Dressed entirely in black, including aviator sunglasses and a fringed leather jacket, he glanced up at the plane's windows, easily locating a certain face. He raised his chin in acknowledgement of its dropped jaw.

"Hi everyone," he said a minute later as he entered the cabin. Leelah placed a fluttering hand over her chest and helped him stow his belongings. He treated Bono to a brief but significant glance before sinking into the seat directly in front of him. Bono gave it the gentlest of kicks.

"Congratulations on the sexual renaissance, by the way," Adam said casually while Larry nearly did a spit-take.

Edge looked over his shoulder at a bashful but grinning Bono, who shrugged. "I believe the correct pronunciation is REN-eh-zonce, Adam, not ren-AY-zonce."

"I beg to differ. Ren-AY-zonce. It just sounds better."

"REN-eh-zonce," Larry volunteered, coughing.

"REN-eh-zonce," Edge muttered, pulling some headphones out of his pocket, adjusting his sunglasses, and reclining his seat a bit, all harbingers of an Edge in-flight nap.

"He's so adorable when he sleeps, wouldn't you agree, B?" Larry asked, pretending to pick a piece of nonexistent lint off his beanie while Edge tried not to smile.

"He is the tiniest of babies," Bono said, getting up and leaning over the back of Edge's seat to kiss his cheekbone. "Hard night, love? I could barely sleep, myself," he whispered quickly before returning to his seat.

 

\-----

 

The band and their small entourage arrived at Le Palais de la Mediterranee in Nice a few hours later. The overcast weather, a mere sixty degrees, felt like a balmy, tropical paradise to their Irish skin. They waited outside beneath a couple of chunky palm trees while an assistant checked them in. No one recognized them because no one was around to recognize them. "The off-season is the best," Larry said, looking forward to an afternoon of solitude and silence (and possibly some guilty-pleasure reality shows no one needed to know about). Adam checked his phone to see what was on display at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Nice. And Bono and Edge merely stared at each other, which was difficult because both were reflected in each other's sunglasses.  _He wears aviators better than I do, always has, and cowboy hats, too, for that matter_ , Bono thought with a mixture of envy and lust.

"Meet you for dinner at 6:00?" Edge asked as key cards were distributed.

"Sure," Adam said, giving Larry a knowing nod. They were obviously going to be very much on their own until then.

Bono fought the urge to grab Edge's hand and forcibly drag him to his bed, but as they entered the lobby Edge said, "You can go ahead, B. I have a few things to discuss with Dallas."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've played second fiddle to your guitars," Bono said, mentally adding  _you bastard_. Brandishing his key card over his head with a flourish and strutting toward the elevators, he paused and peered at the card. "Wait, what room am I? It doesn't say."

"We are sharing the third floor. The rooms are supposed to be adjoining, but you can put your things in B."

"B, eh? How thoughtful of you."

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Don't make me wait too much longer."

Edge raised an eyebrow.

"Please."

Edge nodded and turned as an obsequious bellhop corralled Bono's bags and seemingly evaporated with them. Bono found the bags a few minutes later when he opened the door to his suite, a tastefully ornate, high-ceilinged affair. Its tall windows overlooked the Baie des Anges, turquoise and dazzling even in the overcast off-season. The walls were covered with a mysterious green silk that seemed to shift from celadon to gray as he walked around. He smiled at the bowl of heartbreakingly perfect peaches sitting on a coffee table and their accompanying stack of tea towels. He selected one of each and collapsed onto a white leather couch. It was so welcoming he considered cancelling the tour altogether so he could lie there eating peaches for the remainder of 2015.

But then there was the pit to throw away, and then there were the sticky fingers to wash, so Bono made his way to the bathroom, where he saw a free-standing, cast iron tub adorned with a sexy German faucet. "Fuck yes," he said, and it only took three attempts to understand the inscrutable knobs and handles before he sank into a steamy, soapy oblivion. Fifteen minutes later, just as a series of daydream scenarios involving Edge were becoming actual dreams, Bono was roused by the annoying whine of a distant vacuum cleaner, easily his least favorite sound in the world. Not wishing to receive Edge, _should he ever arrive from his inane guitar errand_ , with pruney fingers and toes, he went under the water one last time and exited the tub.

He was nearly dressed when he heard the familiar and efficient rhythm of Edge's footsteps in one of the rooms. That is, the rhythm was right, but it sounded louder than usual, somehow, and heavier. Curious, he ran a hand through his wet hair and followed the sound from the bathroom through his bedroom and into the living area where he found Edge contemplating a lurid portrait by one of the lesser Fauves.

"Why is it you seem taller--" Bono started to ask before remembering he had no shoes on, and Edge was wearing...boots. _Those boots._ They were the ones he had given Edge over two decades ago; he was positive. "Oh."

Edge glanced at his feet and returned his gaze to Bono's eyes, a slight smile on his face. Bono snapped out of the flashback those boots had elicited. He walked a few steps toward Edge, fell to his knees, and crawled the rest of the way to his feet. He looked up at Edge adoringly then kissed the boots, one arm snaking its way around Edge's calf. Then Bono slowly worked his way up his legs, as though Edge were the world's most pornographic microphone stand. Admiring the tight fabric and kissing here and there, Bono paid special attention to his zipper and belt buckle, gratified by Edge's momentary loss of balance. Edge caressed the back of his neck, and Bono breathed deeply. "Nothing beats the scent of a brand new leather jacket, wouldn't you agree? Even after all these years, it does something to me..." Still on his knees, he played with the fringe for a moment. "This is the sexiest coat I've ever seen."

Edge chuckled at Bono's gift for hyperbole, but at the same time he had to agree. The jacket was perfect, and it was having its desired effect. "A prototype for the tour," he said as Bono continued his slow climb up his body.

"You mean you're going to wear this every night?" he asked, his teeth worrying a shirt button.

"Well, until it gets too hot and I have to take it off," Edge said, slipping out of the jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

"Fuck, I am in trouble," Bono groaned, his hands reaching Edge's neck.

"Yes, you are," Edge smiled, pulling him close and kissing him. Bono's body, still warm and relaxed from the bath, seemed to melt into his, and he felt slightly lightheaded as they pulled away and regarded each other breathlessly. Bono swallowed and shook his head, stunned. "My thoughts exactly," Edge said.

"I don't like to brag, but--"

"Sure you do."

"Okay, you're right. I was going to say we're never not amazing together, but this..." Bono pointed at Edge, then himself, then Edge. "This is fucking electric today."

"It is." Bono touched Edge's upper arm and sleeve, noting with satisfaction that it was the length he had requested, and it was indeed extremely flattering.

"So what do you have planned for us? I assume you have a plan."

"We need to meet Adam and Larry in a couple of hours, so--"

"By the way, I can do this now, just so you know," Bono interrupted, flopping onto his stomach on the couch and raising his upper body with both arms.

"That is a respectable cobra pose," Edge smiled, kneeling beside him and making a couple of unnecessary adjustments to Bono's snug black jeans. "And this is a more-than-respectable backside."

Bono looked back at him. "You still love it, don't you?"

"I remain its biggest fan," Edge said, squeezing the curves that literally millions of people had devoured with their eyes over the years and would soon devour again. He smacked the right pocket. "But you interrupted me."

Bono rolled over. "Oh, I'm sorry, Edge. You were saying?"

_"Edge?"_

Bono grinned, licking his lips. "Sir."

Edge nodded. "Okay. Well, first, your hair is a mess." He moved to kiss Bono's left temple.

"I know. I had just finished taking a bath when I heard you." Bono ran his tongue up Edge's throat, reveling in the residual scent of leather combined with that of his skin, masculine and dark.

Edge looked down at him. "Come with me," he said, rising to his feet and walking toward the door that led to his suite.

"Not gonna be a problem," Bono sang quietly as he got up and followed. Edge opened the door to his gleaming white bathroom. It was larger than Bono's and had the same beautiful tub, along with an unusual vanity. "Not fair that your bathroom is better than mine," Bono teased. "And what the hell? Where do you even _get_ blue granite like this?" He ran his fingers over the cool surface to the left of the vessel sink and admired its denim-colored stone, richly veined with ultramarine, navy, and cerulean and peppered with golden flecks.

Edge took a comb from his bag on the counter and pulled it through Bono's still-delightfully-startling hair that only seemed to be getting lighter as it dried. "First, this is our bathroom. You're obviously staying with me. And second, South America, probably Brazil."

Bono watched him in the mirror, gave a crooked grin, and said, "You would know a thing like that."

"I know a lot of things. You just comb this straight back, right?"

"I guess so. _The team_ plans to do more with it when we're on the road, though, so who can really say? Thanks, love."

"My pleasure."

Edge put the comb down and stood behind Bono, his hands slowly moving up his rib cage, a maneuver that walked the line between sensual and just plain tickling. Bono bit his lip and endured it. "Fuck you for never being ticklish at all, you goddamn android," he said lovingly. Edge stopped and bit his left shoulder. "Would you mind telling me what that desk chair is doing in here?"

"That's not just any desk chair. It's an Aeron hybrid they're having me test."

"They?"

"The people at Herman Miller."

"Okay...?"

"They're a company that makes high tech chairs. Never mind. Anyway, this one's back is taller, and it can recline a lot more."

"And you had it delivered here, for some unknowable reason? Look at you finally playing the rock star card, the Edge."

"Sit down." Edge leaned against the counter.

"Whatever you say," Bono said, pleased with Edge's inscrutable ways. "Oh. Oh wow. Are you sure this isn't my chair? It feels like it was made especially for me."

"That curve in the lower back is like sex. Now let me do this," Edge said, adjusting a knob on the side and locking the chair's wheels. "Okay, lean back."

"I hate chairs that feel like trust falls," Bono said, gritting his teeth but leaning back anyway. "Alright, that's incredible."

"Do you want one?" Edge put a hand towel in the sink and turned on the hot water.

"It'll clash with the rest of my furniture."

"So?"

"You're right. I would love one. This private infomercial of yours has been fascinating, but again I must ask, Reg: why?"

Edge wrung the hot towel out in the sink, kissed Bono's parted lips, and draped the towel over the lower half of his face. "Remember this?"

"Oh my god, Edge, _yes_."

"It's happening again."

Bono moaned. Edge bent to kiss his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his thin t-shirt. "Do you want to listen to some music?"

"Uh, sure."

Edge took his phone out of the bag on the sink, started a playlist, and placed the phone in a drinking glass. "Do you ever do that?"

"No."

"It amplifies the sound."

Bono looked over his shoulder at the sink, and the towel slipped down a bit while Edge dug some items out of the bag. "That's very clever, Edge. Ooh, good choice." _Police and Thieves_ by The Clash played, and he sang along with the soft "oh yeah" part, as anyone who enjoys that song is required to do at least once or twice.

"I've been putting together some songs to play before the shows, and I could use your input. It's on shuffle, so..."

Edge knelt beside the chair, and Bono turned his head to face him. "Back to me," he said, pulling the towel off.

"Back to you." Edge ran a finger from Bono's hot, damp cheek to his lips, tracing the line between them until they parted. Bono kissed the finger, and then he opened his mouth a bit more to suck it, his teeth lightly grazing the nail and his tongue probing the tip. Edge almost lost his train of thought. "The first time we did this I wasn't exactly prepared. But I've been thinking about it for a while now."

"The first time was so hot. Our first kiss was so hot. I'll never forget it."

"You were a genius to ask me to shave your face."

"It was more of a lucky guess, but on some level I kind of knew what I was doing."

Edge straddled him again and murmured, "Yes you did, baby," while Bono caressed his thighs.

"Seducing you was one of my greatest accomplishments."

Edge reached for a container of shaving gel, the ubiquitous brand that shared his name, a coincidence he always found mortifying. He dispensed a bit into his palm and started to rub some on Bono's chin and jaw. "You know I'll love you however you choose to look."

"I mean, you like the little scruff thing I usually do, don't you?"

Edge smiled and continued to work the gel into his skin. "Oh, it's fine. And it will be back in a few days, I'm sure. But you're mine now, and I'm going to mark you as such. Temporarily, of course. I want to be able to look at you tonight and instantly see proof that you belong to me."

Bono's eyes became unfocused for a second. He closed them, and when he reopened them they sparkled. "Do whatever you want to me."

"I fully intend to."

"You're so beautiful," Bono sighed, lifting a hand to touch the network of fine lines near the corner of Edge's left eye. Edge smiled and the lines intensified.

"You're the beautiful one. These lines by my eyes are like a map of the Nile delta at this point."

"What?" Bono said, sitting up in the chair. Its back followed him. "Edge, they're one of my favorite things about you. When I see them, it means you're happy, and hopefully I'm the one who has made you happy. I love them." He moved his hand down to Edge's neck. "Nile delta. That's kind of sexy, though. Only you would come up with that." Bono got comfortable again, eager to bask in Edge's close attention as the next song began playing. It was _Atomic_ by Blondie, and Bono began to laugh. "Okay, once again: a little on the nose with the music this tour. Actually this is exactly right in the middle of the nose."

"Sometimes on the nose simply means it's right, especially when the nose in question is as magnificent as yours."

"This is true."

"Now hold still. This is sharp." Edge opened a straight edge razor and dragged it down Bono's left cheek.

"Also totally on the nose with that razor," Bono whispered gleefully. "Except...do they make bi-edge razors now?" Edge stood up and turned to face the shower for a second, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. He exhaled and returned to Bono, grinning. "Oh look, it's the Nile delta!" Bono said.

"You are too charming for your own good sometimes," Edge said fondly.

"Sometimes? Constantly."

"Yes. Now let me do this."

"Okay. But talk to me."

Edge carved a few more paths from Bono's cheekbone to his jawline and traced a finger along the angle that formed just below his ear. "This intersection of ear, cheek, and jaw is fucking divine."

"Mmm."

Edge made an L shape with his right thumb and index finger, stretching them as far apart as he could. He placed the angle they made over the intersection in question. "It matches. I figured this out one morning when you were asleep." Bono blinked and smiled.

For the sake of symmetry, Edge moved over to the other side of his face and repeated the strokes in a gentle but decisive manner, noticing the diagonal laugh lines that Bono resented but he loved. He ran a finger over the shaved areas to make sure everything was smooth, and it was. They made eye contact, and Edge glanced at Bono's upper lip. Bono opened and stretched his mouth a bit to make it easier to shave. Edge kissed his right eyebrow. "Doing this is so intimate, isn't it? No one ever acknowledges it, though." Bono nodded slightly, and Edge moved in a little closer. "Maybe that's why I find it so erotic. And look at the way I'm looming over you with this very sharp instrument. I could hurt you if I wanted to, but you trust me. You absolutely trust me with this gorgeous face of yours."

Bono's breathing became shallow. Edge placed his free hand on his burgeoning erection, and Bono gasped. As he moved on to his chin, all Edge could say was, "Exquisite." Bono tilted his head back as far as he could, giving Edge access to the expanse of his endless neck. Edge shaved it with long, loving strokes, following each one with kisses and lingering on places where he could feel Bono's pulse throbbing beneath his lips. "I have so many thoughts about this neck." He reached behind Bono's neck to find and undo the clasp of the chain necklace he was wearing. "But right now I have something for you."

A slightly dazed Bono asked, "You do?"

Edge fished around in his bag for a necklace that was nearly identical to Bono's: a collection of several different silver chain fragments connected to make a single one with the largest piece in the center. "Isn't that the same as mine?" Bono asked.

"It looks that way, but I had them make it in titanium for you," Edge said, holding it up to the light. "And next to the clasp is a sapphire. No one will know it's there but us."

"Oh Edge. Titanium and blue. That's perfect, love. My god. You went to so much trouble."

"I happen to have a lot of money," Edge deadpanned. He put the necklace around his neck. 

"I truly don't know what to say, Edge."

"You have been through a terrible ordeal, and you've worked so hard to get better this winter. I'm very proud of you, Bono, and I love you. I nearly lost you, you know."

"Come here," Bono said, pulling Edge in for a kiss as _Baby I Love You_ by the Ramones began to play. They smiled at the same time and their teeth clinked together. Edge held Bono's face in both hands, feeling its new softness, while Bono touched the necklace that further illustrated how thoroughly he belonged to Edge. They continued kissing for a couple of minutes.

"Edge..."

"Yes?"

"Daddy."

Edge closed his eyes.

"Fuck me in your bed," he whispered. "Please."


	7. Accessory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was wrong! I couldn't cram everything into one manageable chapter, so there will be another after this chatty, almost Seinfeld-y souffle. Spoiler alert: it cuts off right before you-know-what happens, sorry.
> 
> The accessory in question is actually a combination of two items I found in a cursory search, but for all I know, it probably exists as I described it.
> 
> Bono says something to Edge that is similar to a line spacemonkey (and I think fouroux as well?) have used in the past and is my tribute to their wonderful work. If you are familiar with their stories, I think you will know it when you see it. If not, well, I don't think it's out of place here.
> 
> One of my biggest pet peeves about writing slash is dealing with pronouns. I would love to use "he" more than "Bono" or "Edge," but when I do that it can become confusing. Which one do I mean? So I feel like I have typed Bono and/or Edge about a billion times in this fic for the sake of clarity.
> 
> Thank you to all who have commented on this story. As always, it means the world to me.
> 
> PS I hate vacuum cleaners. A lot.

"Slow down, love."

Bono collapsed back in the chair and looked at the ceiling. "You're killing me, you realize."

"You look so good lying on your back like that. I'm afraid I have other plans for you, though."

"This is some _Remains of the Day_ -level restraint, Edge."

"Don't think I haven't considered restraints."

Bono batted his lashes comically before asking, "So what are these other plans? I know if I were you I'd have already fucked me at least twice this afternoon."

Edge smirked.

Bono sat up a bit and dragged his hand down his torso. "I mean, how could I possibly resist me?"

"Clearly you've been living in a rich fantasy world with yourself all winter."

Bono got up and walked toward Edge, slowly backing him up against a mirrored wall and saying, "You have no idea. I'm such a pushover when it comes to me." He kissed his simpering reflection.

"So am I," Edge sighed, and they embraced as _Marquee Moon_ began to play. He looked back at his phone to check the time. "We'll be meeting Adam and Larry in less than an hour."

"This song should be over by then. What's our longest one, any idea?"

Edge grabbed his phone to google the answer. "I can't believe I don't know this... _Lemon_. The fans seem to agree it's _Lemon_ at 6:58. Aww, look at this: 'So good it could run for another six minutes' and there's a drooling emoji. This is a thread from 2007, though, so do you think _No Line_ had anything longer?"

"Edge?" Bono grabbed Edge's free hand and placed it on the nape of his neck.

"Sorry." They kissed for a moment, their tongues warm and soft.

"How are we going to kill approximately 45 minutes?" Bono asked his reflection.

"I have one more thing for you."

"What is it, a bracelet? A ring? A sparkly barrette?" Bono teased. "You know what Coco Chanel said about accessories."

"Refresh me."

"'Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take off one piece.'"

"I usually just wear one thing, if that." Edge allowed Bono to tug at the neckline of his shirt. No necklace was there.

"I know. That idea kind of falls apart for people like you."

"Well, this is an accessory no one will see," Edge said, handing Bono a small box.

"Mysterious. Whatever could it be?"

"You stay here and find out. I'll be waiting in the non-sex bedroom when you're ready," Edge said, pointing in the direction of Bono's suite. Over the years, they had agreed to designate one bed for sex and one for general relaxation. Edge closed the bathroom door and walked through the living room to Bono's bedroom, which was decorated with an array of darker greens. He considered removing his boots, decided against it, and stretched out on the bed. He heard Bono's loud cackle from the bathroom and smiled to himself while he texted Adam and Larry about dinner details.

Bono emerged as _Marquee Moon_ ended. His face wore an expression of disbelief, delight, and mild outrage. "You...you are one evil motherfucker, the Edge."

"You have no idea," he said, fighting the urge to laugh as a tentative Bono walked over to the bed and joined him. "You'll get used to them."

"Oh, will I?"

"I did. Eventually." Edge patted the bed, and Bono joined him.

"You used these before me?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I bought a second set to make sure they were okay. I would never ask you to do something I personally wouldn't do; you know that," Edge said, sliding his hand up Bono's thigh.

"That's downright magnanimous of you."

"Did you look at the instructions?"

"I guess I sort of glanced at them... _Jesus Christ_ , what the _fuck_ was that?"

Edge pulled Bono closer and whispered, "The beads vibrate via a remote control. Which I have."

"You are one evil motherfucker, the Edge."

"And I'll be turning the intensity way down now, okay? As low as it can go. Also they will expand just a bit." Bono opened his mouth in protest. "Just a bit. They're probably already done by now."

"I assume I'll be forced to keep these bastards in while we're at dinner?"

"Yes." Edge tried the remote again, and Bono blinked. "Was that better?"

"Marginally." Edge kissed his forehead, and Bono smiled. "Actually it's barely perceptible now. We're doing this because...?"

"Two reasons. It's been a while for us, and the beads will help prepare you for me." Bono snuggled in beside him and rested his head on Edge's chest. "And when you do or say something tonight that makes me want to fuck you, I'll be able to let you know."

"How thoughtful."

"I've been thinking about this all winter, obviously."

"That makes two of us."

"This toy is alright, isn't it?"

"Of course. I am so turned on right now."

Edge hit the button, and Bono shivered. "I do need your help with a couple of things. First, do you want silence, music, white noise, or something else when we're together?"

"When we're 'together'? Do be more specific, Reg."

"When I'm fucking you, B."

"Ahh." 

"It's always impossible, isn't it? Silence is okay, but sometimes I get distracted by...sounds."

"That can take me right out of it, too. We need something." Bono lifted his head peevishly, hearing a noise he continued to despise. "And not that blasted vacuum cleaner."

Edge looked at the ceiling and did an involuntary panel count. They had discussed this issue frequently in the past, of course, but he didn't mind revisiting it for old time's sake, and maybe they'd even find an answer. "But it can't be our music because then that part of my brain will engage, and I'll start thinking about things I'd change, or new ideas will form--"

Bono slipped a hand up Edge's shirt and nestled it in his chest hair. "When you're supposed to be concentrating on me, for god's sake."

Edge stretched his torso and shoulders. "Yes, this beautiful creature I've been wanting to fuck for months is on his knees before me, and suddenly I'm thinking about changing the second verse."

"But then we can't listen to our contemporaries because...comparisons." Edge restarted his playlist, and Bono continued, "Ooh, _Cars_ by Gary Numan. I love this song. So futuristic, even now."

"I love these old songs, too, but they can be like time machines, and sometimes not in a good way."

"And we're not going to be two middle aged men fucking to jazz, I'm sorry."

Edge laughed and began numbering other genres on his fingers. "Blues: no. Classical: too grandiose. Country: insane."

"How about environmental sounds? Tropical rainforests, thunderstorms, things like that...?"

"I could maybe--maybe--deal with a thunderstorm, but you know what the problem is."

"You find yourself waiting for the loop to pause and start up again. Fuck. Maybe we ought to ask Larry and Adam what music we should fuck to."

"Adam would recommend some obscure instrument from let's say Fiji, and Larry would just go, "DRUMS."

They laughed, and Bono mumbled, "Totally going to ask them, though." Brightening, he asked, "Well, what's the other thing you wanted to know?" Edge turned Bono onto his back and got on top, careful not to crush him. Bono shook his head and pulled Edge down. "I want to feel all of your weight on me," he moaned, grinding against him. "Don't worry. I can take it."

Edge slowly lowered himself onto Bono's writhing form. "Okay, if you're sure." He rested his lips by Bono's earlobe and whispered, "The other thing is...how do you want to come tonight? Is it more important for us to come together or do you want to take turns?"

"Together," Bono whispered, drawing out the R sound.

"So that means I could try to take you in my hand, or you could use yours, or...I have another toy you could play with." He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down.

Bono rolled his eyes fondly. "Of course you do. Do you like this toy?"

"Five stars. Explosive. And it's hands-free."

"Well, let's do that, then. But I want to feel your mouth on me at some point."

"Oh baby, that's a given," Edge said, nuzzling his cheekbone and relishing the lingering scent of shaving cream. "Sorry to micromanage this."

"I love being micromanaged by you."

"I've been preoccupied with thoughts of you this week. Driven to distraction."

"Yes. I'd look at a table and imagine you bending me over it."

Edge lifted Bono's right arm above his head and held it in place. "Or I'd see a tree and you're tied to it."

"Or there you are, standing in an empty doorway...wearing those boots," Bono said, his free hand exploring Edge's shoulders.

"Yes."

"But we're here, and it's now," Bono sang a half-remembered Morrissey lyric. "It's finally now."

They looked into each other's eyes, and Edge said, "You're going to be one content, well-fucked young man when I'm done with you tonight."

Bono swallowed and involuntarily raised his hips. "Ohh..."

"Did you like that?"

"Christ, sometimes you say things that go straight to my cock," Bono murmured.

"They just come to me."

"Do we really have to do dinner tonight?" Bono closed his eyes as if in pain.

"I'm afraid so."

"I guess I should put in an appearance," he said, looking out the window at the eastern horizon, which was a soft, wraparound-sunset pink. "It's sort of in my honor, right?"

"Our little crew wants to celebrate the return of their hero," Edge said, getting up and pulling Bono along with him.

"Just a quick sandwich or something and we're right back here."

"We'll see."

 _Because the Night_ by Patti Smith started to play. Bono pulled Edge close and put his arms around his neck, swaying to the beat. Edge joined him in his slow dance. "You know, as a kind of Plan B, we could always fuck to Patti, although this song..." He pointed to his nose, and Edge chuckled.

The two returned to their respective bathrooms, like boxers at the end of a round, to get ready for the obligatory meal. They met near the elevators a few minutes later. Bono put on his blue sunglasses and brought Edge's new jacket. "I wouldn't want you to get cold," he said, offering it.

"I'm fine without it. Thank you, though." Edge put it over his arm.

"Well, can I wear it, then?"

"No."

"So mean."

"You should wear navy more," Edge said, toying with Bono's collar.

The elevator doors opened onto the non-bustling lobby, and they spotted Larry and Adam standing near the hotel's acceptable-looking restaurant. "So we're all walking in together like we're in some kind of band?" Bono joked.

"People are disappointed if we don't," Adam said. "They need us to exist as a foursome at all times."

"I suppose we should go in four abreast, dead serious, and looking in different directions."

Larry grinned. "No, B. You need to be way out in front and we'll be kind of blurry in the background."

"Hilarious."

Moments later their drinks were ordered and they were seated in the dining room's desultory VIP area, but they had the dated, pastel-drenched restaurant to themselves. "Admittedly, this is a bit early to be eating," Adam said.

Edge smiled. "Aging Band Takes Advantage of Sad Early-Bird Special."

Larry looked across the table at Adam. "I think it's obvious why we're doing this now, Ad."

"Oh, of course," Adam said, nodding at Bono and Edge. "We'll do our very best to hurry things along."

Bono flashed a million-dollar smile at them and received a buzz from Edge. "Oh! We were curious: what kind of music do you listen to when you're having sex? Together or otherwise."

A bemused Adam laughed and gazed into the middle distance. "Have you ever listened to Chinese guqin music?" Bono kicked Edge under the table and listened to Adam with feigned interest. "It's an ancient stringed instrument that actually sounds like a slide guitar sometimes...like your guitar at the very beginning of _Running to Stand Still_ , as a matter of fact. And gamelan gong kebyar from Bali is just indescribable."

"Fascinating."

"DRUMS. Come on," Larry said as Bono and Edge grinned, extremely satisfied. "And when it's just Adam and me," he continued facetiously, "it's all bluegrass all the time."

"We're throwing a Parliament Funkadelic orgy for the locals later this evening. You're welcome to join us, but we'll understand if you don't."

"You've both been incredibly helpful," Bono said.

"By the way, what happened to your...?" Larry asked, stroking his chin.

"Oh this? I feel positively naked without it. Interesting story: Edge took it upon himself to shave me this afternoon. It was unspeakably erotic." Adam guffawed and Larry put his head down on the table. "Don't ask questions if you don't want answers, Larry."

Bono noticed two elderly men who were being seated near the bar, and when the drinks arrived he told their server, "Please give those gentlemen anything they want tonight with our compliments." He smiled sweetly at Edge, who pushed the button. Bono closed his menu. "We're ready to order, too."

Larry chuckled. "Oh, are we?"

"I know what I want," Bono said, blatantly eye-fucking Edge.

Orders taken, the band settled into their booth as their skeleton crew (Brian, Dallas, Stuart, and Sam) came in. Everyone exchanged greetings with the kind of mild awkwardness that happens between co-workers who have already seen each other earlier in the day. "Drinks are on me!" Bono announced. "In fact, everything's on me." He raised his glass of vodka at Edge and leered, "Everything's right on top of me tonight." Edge nodded and fiddled with a certain gadget in his pocket.

"You're awfully quiet, Edge," Adam said.

"I suppose I am a bit preoccupied," he replied, hoping that sentence would suffice.

Larry picked up his napkin, unfolded it, and folded it again before asking, "When are you guys going to come out, seriously?"

"Don't think we haven't thought about this repeatedly," Edge said, looking at Bono.

Bono sighed. "Part of me would love to, but then...it's all anyone would talk or write about for the rest of our lives. No, wait, first they'd have a paragraph about the Apple fiasco, and then they'd do, I don't know, at least five more concerning the glorious coming out of Edge and myself, and then at the very end of the article they'd have two sentences saying, 'Larry Clayton and Adam Mullen are also in U2. They released a new album today, and it sucks.'"

  
Adam and Larry looked at each other, nodded, and shrugged.

Edge drew geometric shapes on the table with his finger and said, "There's something attractive about retaining a modicum of privacy in our lives. This doesn't just affect the two of us. It's our wives, our children...not that they'd mind so much."

Bono raised his hand. "Vouching for mine. They wouldn't."

"But I think our audience appreciates the ambiguity of what goes on among us. There's something subversive about Bono coming over and molesting me at a show, and people have to try to make sense of that. And then maybe he'll go over to Adam and kiss him. What does that mean? Anything? Nothing? Is it a band thing? Is it something men who have been together since childhood simply do?"

"It means I'm the slut of the band, love."

"If you put it in the context of 'Bono and Edge are a couple and have been for years,' it sort of loses whatever frisson and mystery it once had. Add Adam into the mix and then it's like you're cheating on me." Edge looked at the ultramarine blue sea through a nearby window and sighed. "I'm just playing the devil's advocate here. On the other hand, I would like to let our fans know about us and maybe become a role model for people who, well, fall in love with their best friend."

"Maybe we should wait until U2 is no more. Then I'll be able to put something nice and juicy in my memoirs," Bono said brightly.

"Not if I write mine first."

"You should write a book together," Adam said.

Larry laughed. "You should call it, _How Was Our Love Not Totally Obvious To All Of You? The Bono and Edge Story_."

Bono applauded. "I suppose we'll keep it on a need-to-know basis for now. Why don't we move on to more important topics, such as where the hell is our food?"

"It's only been a few minutes."

"Has it? It feels more like about three and a half months," Bono said, his left foot investigating Edge's boots.

A handful of the hotel's staff stopped by their table and asked to take photos with the band, who were happy to oblige. Then they began talking about various rehearsal issues and engaged their crew with technical questions as their food arrived. Larry and Adam did most of the talking, though, and Edge and Bono took the opportunity to stare at each other. Bono fondled his new necklace. Edge traced a finger over his jawline, and Bono did the same. Edge took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and so did Bono. Edge put a finger in his drink, sucked it, and buzzed Bono as he followed along. Bono continued to mirror Edge until their lack of participation was noticed.

"How are you feeling, Bono, really?" Adam said, putting an arm around Bono's shoulders.

Bono glanced at him affectionately. "I'm so much better. I can't wait to play in that cage with all of you."

"Are you sure?" Adam asked, and Edge and Larry gave him their undivided attention.

"Honestly...part of me finds the idea of this tour rather daunting. Frightening, even."

"See, I knew it," Larry said.

Bono looked at all three of them. "But the fact that I'm frightened--to me that says we're on the right track, don't you think?"

They nodded and looked at him warmly. "All of us will be right there with you," Adam said, and Bono looked down and blinked a few times. "We love you, and you won't ever be alone out there."

"Really proud of you, B." Larry reached over and took Bono's hand, and the four of them were quiet for a few moments.

Edge mouthed, "I love you," at a visibly-moved Bono. Then he nodded. And Bono smiled.

Adam winked at Larry and said, "Go ahead. We'll see you in the morning."

Bono squeezed Larry's hand and put his head on Adam's shoulder. "We love you."

They said goodbye to their crew, and as they exited the restaurant Bono made eye contact with the two men by the bar. They smiled and raised their glasses, and he gave them a small wave.

They stood at opposite corners of the elevator, once again like boxers sizing each other up, assuming that cameras were everywhere. Edge already had his key card out. "Please?" Bono asked, his heart racing.

"Yes," Edge said, his left boot heel tapping on the elevator floor.

The doors opened and within seconds they were in Edge's suite.

"Please?"

Edge groaned, pushed him against the wall, and bit the back of his neck, ravenous.

"Yes."

Bono looked down and watched Edge's hands moving up his chest and neck.

"Please?"

Edge kissed the sapphire on Bono's necklace. "It's starting."


	8. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy and so sad to have finished this story!
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have read, commented, texted, reblogged, and DMed me as I wrote this. Your kind words not only kept me going, but they also gave me ideas. You're all so wonderful. <3
> 
> Thanks to my husband for supporting me in this bizarre endeavor. I came out to him two and a half weeks ago (see comments for the whole story). I was terrified he'd be put off by my little hobby, but he's not, and honestly the past few months have been wonderful. He definitely benefits from this activity. See, late at night the ideas come to me, and I'll wake him up, and he's basically Edge and I'm...never mind.
> 
> Italics=their thoughts. Yes, I'm doing that again.
> 
> I stole a line from a Prince song here. Edge winks when he quotes it, and Bono would be familiar with it.
> 
> The stupidly-named toy is real. My husband can vouch for its effectiveness.
> 
> Thanks to the movie Arthur, starring Dudley Moore and John Gielgud, unlikely inspirations for my B/E dynamic. I read all dialogue as if they were saying it (if they were bisexual rock stars) to check for accuracy. True story!
> 
> And now, I bring you...the good part. NC-17.

"Follow me."

Edge took Bono's hand and led him into the bathroom. He pushed him against the mirrored wall, they kissed passionately, and Edge pinned Bono's arms over his head, meeting no resistance. After holding him in place and grinding against him for a minute, Edge pulled back and removed Bono's sunglasses. They stared at each other.

_Your eyes are so green._

_Your eyes are so blue._

Bono's body left a faint outline of fog on the mirror as Edge eased him away from it by the collar of his shirt. He went to work on its buttons. "No music, then?" Bono asked.

"I want to hear every fucking sound you make."

Bono closed his eyes and smiled, drunk with love as Edge stripped him to the waist. Edge took off his beanie and let it fall to the floor along with the shirt. Bono dropped to his knees, following them.

_Fucking Pavlovian response every time you do that, Edge._

"Every time you take a breath," Edge continued evenly, as Bono kissed his boots again and slowly worked his way back up again, appreciating firm, angular planes and straining fabric again. "Every time you moan. Every time you say my name."

_Those freckles on your arms kill me every time._

"Edge..." Bono whispered, his eager fingers encountering the soft hair under Edge's shirt and stubble at his neck.

_Like a geisha with that hat. A glimpse of her wrist or the nape of her neck outlined with white...you've also eroticized the mundane. I get to see what you won't show others: this perfectly-formed skull housing this carnal imagination._

"I have a confession to make," Edge said as Bono caressed the back of his head, the hairs short and bristly on the way up and smooth and soft on the way down.

_Every unseen thing under that hat, by the way? I own it._

"What's that?"

"I didn't meet with Dallas this afternoon. While you were taking a bath, I was in here," he said, opening the door to the bedroom, "doing this." Blue light cascaded out the door, and they followed it to its source: an oversized four poster bed draped with yards of dark blue lace and illuminated by blue bulbs attached above each of the posts. The lace ran up from the foot of the bed, created a canopy over the top, and spilled down to the headboard. The side of the bed was next to a wall of mirrors. Additional large mirrors were tipped against the opposite wall, and a bedside table held various supplies.

Taking a few steps toward the bed, Bono looked back at Edge with a grin. "This is playing the rock star card."

"I may have called in a favor or two, but most of this was me."

Bono kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed onto the bed, which was bare except for pillows and sheets. He looked up at the lace. Bright blue sparkled through its seashell designs like starlight and created lovely diffused patterns on his skin.

Edge approached the bed and said, "I've always loved you under a blue light."

Bono looked at his countless reflections in the mirror. "Well, now you have infinity me under infinity blue lights." Edge sat on the side of the bed, and Bono moved to kiss him. "This is beautiful."

"You deserve it," Edge said, tapping the heel of his boots on the hardwood floor.

Picking up on this cue, Bono knelt in front of him, undid the laces, and pulled the boots off. "You deserve it, too."

_You deserve the world at your feet, worshiping your genius._

Returning to the bed, Bono pulled Edge's shirt up in the back, and Edge took it off in one fluid movement. The two fell back in a loving embrace that quickly escalated into something more desperate. The blue light was a great equalizer, and scars and other perceived flaws disappeared among the fascinating shadows cast across pale skin. Soon Bono was on his back, gazing up at Edge. His eyes were wide, dilated, and doubly blue, and gravity smoothed the lines in his face to the point where it resembled that of his innocent, beatific past.

_Daddy..._

Edge was on his hands and knees above him and looking down with great tenderness. He traced the line of now slightly faded hair up the center of Bono's torso with a finger. He kissed his forehead, eyebrows, and eyelids delicately, but his tenderness caused Bono to look away. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Baby."

"I want you so much I could cry."

Edge held him. "You have me. You always will. You're safe, love." They were quiet for a moment, just breathing together.

"Sorry I'm so emotional tonight."

"Never be sorry. It's one of the things I love most about you." Edge kissed the side of his neck.

_Fading soap and shaving cream, ascendant indescribable x-factor..._

Bono collected himself and nodded.

 _Let's have some fun_.

He turned his head to gently tug on Edge's earring with his teeth.

_Your ears have always been so sensitive, and why wouldn't they be?_

With the tip of his tongue, he explored the ear's curves and contours.

_My turn to torture you, love. I've made you come doing this before._

He kept his breathing as quiet as possible and simply whispered "Edge" from time to time as Edge moaned. He tugged on the waist of Edge's jeans, and his fingers outlined pockets and other seams he could reach. "I want you out of these."

"Yes."

They moved to stand beside the bed, unceremoniously shedding what was left of their clothing before grasping each other's bodies, naked together for the first time in months. The collision felt at once familiar and electric, and the sensation of male skin on male skin, impossible to simulate when alone, made them gasp. Edge put a thumb in Bono's mouth and watched him suck it as his other fingers stroked his jaw.

_Such a simple, almost idiotic act, and yet I can never resist making you do it._

Meanwhile, Bono was admiring his now more muscular lover, with one hand at his back and one at his chest to calculate the change and confirm that the assumptions he had made over the winter were correct.

_My perfect, dominant Edge._

Bono's skin, luminous and otherworldly under the lights, was as pampered as any woman's, yet it managed to contain that sturdy fighter's build and his mercurial temperament. Their erections rubbed against each other, and the friction and heat they produced made Bono exhale loudly and Edge shake his head. They separated for a few seconds and beheld each other.

_This is how a man is supposed to look._

_This is how a man is supposed to look._

"Honestly, I'll be lucky if I can last a reasonable amount of time," Edge said apologetically.

Bono smirked. "Reg, you have been mind-fucking me all winter. Literally months of foreplay. And look at you. I won't last long either."

Edge smiled and pulled him back for a kiss. "We've taken each other to the brink so many times already."

Bono pushed him away with mock outrage. "We? _You_."

"This is true," Edge grinned, grabbing his hips playfully.

He put his arms around Edge's neck. "I should change your name to The Brink for the atrocities I've been made to endure."

"No one would blame you."

"Petitions denouncing you are being signed on Amnesty International's website even as I do this." Bono smiled and slowly dropped to his knees, nuzzling Edge's warm chest and stomach along the way.

_Your skin always smells like you've been walking in night air, even when you haven't._

Edge held on to one of the bed posts to steady himself while his other hand stroked blonde hair that became baby blue under the lights. He had to remind himself to breathe as he watched infinite reflections of Bono taking him in his greedy, joyful mouth.

_I'm barely even trying and you're close already, I can tell, Edge. But you feel so right in my mouth, and I need this as much as you do. You're going to have to make me stop because at this moment my mission in life is kneeling before you, breathing you in, and sucking your cock._

It took heroic amounts of willpower for Edge to grasp the back of Bono's necklace and pull him away. He looked up with a dazed, almost drunken leer, pleased with the power he would always wield over Edge, no matter who was in charge.

"Yes?"

"Get on my bed."

A few seconds later, Bono was on his back with Edge's tongue in his mouth. Soon. It would be soon, and they both knew it. Edge gave him a pillow--Bono liked to bury his face in one when Edge went down on him. It wasn't there for him to wail into, although wail into it he would. It was more of a security blanket to ease the mild loneliness he felt when Edge wasn't right beside him and looking into his eyes.

_So far away when you're down there, love._

Edge continued to explore and rediscover Bono's body. Favorite constellations of freckles, healed injuries, hair configurations, skin that rarely saw the light of day and was still so youthful--all of these reminded him of familiar roads that led to a place where he was loved and understood. He was home.

Bono tapped his shoulder and turned Edge's head to watch their reflections. They locked eyes in the mirror. Edge felt a momentary out-of-body sensation; it was as if he were watching two strangers in a black and white--black and blue--movie. One was more passive and even a bit androgynous with that face and that hair and those sublime eyes. The other was virile and masculine. He was stronger and clearly in control yet under the erotic spell of the other.

Edge returned his attention to Bono and buried his face in his chest while Bono continued to watch himself being kissed, stroked, and adored under the aquatic light. Edge gave two rosy nipples the attention they deserved while Bono squirmed. He kissed his way down that beloved chest to the shelf formed by the bottom of his ribcage, the place he could never not bite, even though he knew it tickled. He had long since learned to place an open hand nearby so it wouldn't be as intense. Edge had also long since learned that he couldn't forget to talk to Bono, who needed praise while this vulnerable part of his body was being scrutinized.

"Baby, you have no idea how much I've missed this."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea."

"My lovely boy." Edge kissed his stomach then sat up between Bono's parted legs, his hands running down two tense thighs and back up to darker, thicker hair and his aching cock. Bono's pelvis lifted, fell, and lifted again. "What do you want, love?"

_Fun question, Reg._

"Your mouth. Please?"

"Yes."

"Say it again." Bono bent his head back and looked up at the lace.

"Yes," Edge said, leaning over and kissing a hipbone. "Yes," he murmured, his fingernails grazing a compliant inner thigh. "Yes," he whispered, taking Bono in his mouth and awaiting the inevitable moan.

He knew exactly what to do at this point, of course. Bono wasn't hard to please. A simple combination of fingers, lips, and tongue working together in an easy rhythm, accompanied by certain appreciative sounds from Edge, virtually guaranteed ecstatic screams within a few minutes. At the same time, though, Bono adored novelty, and that was what he was going to get. Edge tapped his hip and said, "Lift up, love."

It took Bono a second or two to process that request before he obeyed. Edge took a folded towel from the bedside table, placed it beneath Bono, and hooked a finger through the small loop that was attached to the beads. Without warning, he gave it a gentle tug.

"Oh, _fuck_ , Edge," Bono yelled.

"You will love this, baby," Edge reassured him. Bono groaned and looked at him questioningly, but the moment was interrupted by the sound of drumming overhead. A random pattern quickly evolved into the unmistakeable opening to _Sunday Bloody Sunday_.

"Is that fucking Larry up there?" Bono raised himself up on his elbows and asked with a laugh.

"I'm pretty sure they have the fourth floor. That's got to be an upside-down trash can he's using."

"We love you, Larry!" Bono shouted at the ceiling.

They heard a muffled peal of laughter from above, followed by a loud, "DRUMS, lads!" footsteps leading away, and the opening of a door. "Good night!" was the last thing they heard before the door closed.

"We're in the best band in the world, you know," Edge smiled.

"Without question."

They kissed. Edge ran his fingers through Bono's hair. "Back to you."

Bono glanced down at himself and raised an eyebrow. "I should say so. I'm at a mere ninety percent at the moment."

"Easily corrected," Edge said, pushing Bono back gently and taking him in his mouth again.

"Yes, please get to work," Bono sighed happily and cuddled with his pillow. Edge resumed Bono's preferred rhythm and moved his free hand up his stomach to his estimable chest. Bono placed his hand in Edge's and communicated his pleasure by squeezing it gently from time to time.

"Lift," Edge said again.

_The things I do for you..._

Bono raised his pelvis again and held his breath as Edge got him ready. Edge returned to sucking his fully-engorged cock while he waited for him to resume breathing. Once his chest began to rise and fall again, Edge slowly pulled on the loop, and the first bead came out. Bono moaned loudly, and his entire body shivered.

_I could watch you react to this all night._

"Okay, B?" Edge couldn't resist the urge to grasp his own needy cock as Bono blushed and writhed.

"I am beyond okay," he murmured.

"Only three more left, if I remember correctly."

"Jesus Christ, Edge."

_The combination of your mouth and those fucking beads will be the death of me._

Determined to draw this process out for as long as Bono could stand it, Edge took him in his mouth again, deliberately establishing a weaker rhythm and pressure he knew Bono only sort of liked. When the frustrated whimpers began, he pulled out another bead. Bono's hips bucked beneath him as he cried out. He caught his breath and watched Edge's smiling and animalistic reflection.

"Do I please you, Edge?" he asked softly.

_It's all I want._

Edge crawled up and kissed his mouth. "Utterly."

Bono sank down a bit and rested his cheek against Edge's chest, luxuriating in its warmth and rugged power.

_You are one superb male specimen. My god._

"Do whatever you want to me," Bono sighed, his teeth grazing Edge's clavicle then biting it in earnest, leaving a few crescent moon-shaped marks.

"I always do." Edge caressed Bono's smooth chin.

_Mine._

He returned to Bono's shuddering cock and sucked it gently, tasting sweetness and salt.

 _This object is as volatile as nitroglycerin at this point_.

Bono looked back at the navy lace and blue starlight and bit his lip. Edge's tongue tapped against the underside of his cock, and he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. The negative after-image he saw on his eyelids was bright orange and reminded him of autumn leaves for a split second. He began to kick when the next bead emerged.

"Edge...oh god Edge..." he groaned into his pillow.

"Almost there, baby." He stroked Bono slowly and lightly, using just a few fingers.

"Edge."

_Oh god this is torture this is too much._

"Edge..."

 _I have to say it or I'll come right now_.

"Orchid."

Edge stopped immediately upon hearing their rarely-if-ever-used safe word and locked eyes with Bono. "Bono, what is it?"

"I'm so close. I'm too close," he said, tilting his head to the side and looking at Edge with great seriousness.

Edge smiled and moved back up, and the two lay face to face on their sides. "Let's just pause for a minute, then, alright?"

"Please." Edge rubbed his neck and shoulders to get him to relax and eventually a slow, crooked smile spread across his face.

"Better?"

"I think so. Yes." They kissed--just lips at first, then with tongues, then with grasping hands. Bono decided that Edge's neck and cock had been grievously neglected and worked to remedy that situation with his mouth and his hands, his breath still hot and needy. Edge bit his lip and closed his eyes. "And how is my beautiful Edge, by the way?"

"Who, me? I want to fuck you so bad it hurts," he said with a wink.

"Oh, Edge, you poor thing. Let's get you laid, okay?" They both smiled and kissed one more time.

Edge took Bono's plump, eager cock in his hand. "You are still so ready, aren't you?"

"For you? Always."

Edge unfolded the towel and spread it out on the bed. "I need you to turn over on this, then." Bono rolled onto his stomach and passively let Edge arrange him on the bed. He always seemed to have ideas about this kind of thing.

"So I see we'll be at a 45 degree angle tonight?" he asked, finding his face close to the mirrors and his feet near the center of the bed.

Edge put another folded towel under Bono's hips and arranged a few other things from the table. "I want to watch your face, but this way I'll be able to see everything else, too. And so will you." His preparations finished, Edge sat back on his heels and took in the sight that was before him.

Bono grinned at him over his shoulder. "Do you like what you see, the Edge?"

Edge ran his hands up the back of each thigh and then higher, to an ass so delectably round and perfectly formed he suspected golden ratios must be at work, and maybe one day he'd look into that, really research it--

Bono cleared his throat.

"You're exactly what I need," Edge said, his chest hair skimming over Bono's ticklish back as he crawled up to kiss his beaming face. While he was in the neighborhood, he took the opportunity to drag his tongue down the back of Bono's neck. He noticed some faint bite marks there and bit them again.

_This man belongs to me._

Meanwhile, his cock had found a place it desperately needed to be, and it tucked itself nearby. "Baby...baby..." he whispered repeatedly in Bono's ear until his skin became flushed and slick and he raised his hips and moaned.

_Make him beg for it._

Edge sat up and continued to admire Bono from this vantage point: the long neck, the delicate Irish skin, the broad shoulders tapering to a still-small waist that made him think about ratios again. The bizarrely sexy hair that made him a believer in the beauty of artifice...the twin dimples near the base of his spine that had the power to destroy him...kissing them only made that situation worse. Ever vigilant, Edge reached under Bono's hips to check on the state of his erection. Oh, he was throbbing, and he was kissing his pillow pointlessly, his eyes closed. Edge gave him a finger to suck on instead.

_Talk to him._

"Now, I'm not going to do anything until I'm convinced you're ready for it, love."

"Mmm..."

Edge took his finger out of his mouth and listened to his breathing. Heavier. Hotter. "After this last one comes out, it's my turn, and I hope you'll be able to handle me, love." Edge thrust his hips against Bono's backside to drive his point home. Bono whimpered.

"God, I need your cock, Edge," he whined. His left hand reached for the side of the mattress.

_What immaculate fingernails you have on those darling hands._

"You've been so patient. So good." Edge drew the still-wet finger down Bono's spine.

"Edge..."

"I'm very proud of you."

"Please."

"Give me some more." They made eye contact in the mirror.

"Fuck, Edge, I love you," Bono pleaded.

"Say it, love."

"Daddy...please."

Supporting his weight with his left arm (the one that was closest to the mirror, the one Bono was studying), Edge reached down and gave the beads a short tug, just enough to let him know what was coming. Bono exhaled and nodded. "Yes," Edge said, and the last and largest bead was out. Bono cried out and pumped against the towel. "Yes," Edge repeated.

Working quickly, Edge slicked himself and Bono with lube, and soon he was ready to penetrate. "One...two...one...two..." he whispered, poised above Bono, and they began to breathe together, inhaling on one and exhaling on two, a relaxation technique they had been using for years.

"Please fuck me, please fuck me," Bono whispered, and at long last Edge gave him what he wanted. No strangers to this, they knew exactly how to make it work, and muscle memory kicked in almost instantly as they moved together so slowly, so gradually, so harmoniously.

And yet.

Edge was never prepared for the shocking tightness and the heat, and Bono was never prepared for the intense fullness and his complete domination by another man.

_the man I trust the man I love the man who owns my soul my perfect complement_

_the man I trust the man I love the man who owns my soul my perfect complement_

They watched each other's blue reflections--Edge gritting his teeth and inhaling; Bono's eyes squinting then wide open and unfocused. Bono became vocal, moaning loudly and calling Edge's name until Edge cried out along with him, managing to thrust at the pace Bono loved, the rhythm that had become the backbone of any number of ballads they had written together. Edge pushed Bono's hair off his damp forehead and the two made eye contact in the mirror. "For the next ten months," Edge began. He caught his breath and continued, "For the next ten months, love, you are mine. You are mine. You will be with me every night, and I will fuck you in my bed every night."

"Yes, Edge. Yes..." Bono sighed, his eyes docile and dark.

"Is that what you want?"

"It's all I want." They kissed in a dreamy, erotic haze, straining their necks to reach each other's lips. Edge moved over to Bono's ear--so singular, so extravagantly curved--and purred little endearments. Bono smiled blissfully, but his brow became increasingly furrowed. He needed release, and soon. "Edge, please, help me," Bono whispered.

"Yes."

"Do I need to--"

"No, let me." Edge grabbed a black silicone toy that was essentially a small, gently curved platform with flexible wings on opposite sides that wrapped around Bono's cock and held it in place. Edge pressed a button on the side and the platform began to oscillate and vibrate.

" _Fuck_." Bono's eyes rolled back, and the toy sent a jolt through both of them.

"I know; it's unreal."

"What the _exact fuck_ , Edge?"

"The name of the toy is really stupid. I'll tell you later." Edge fought to maintain his steady rhythm.

"Totally do not care," Bono said breathlessly. He concentrated on the sensations and his body trembled. The incoherent cries and ecstatic noises began. Edge dropped down to steady himself, bit Bono's shoulder, and groaned.

"Oh Edge, it's so good I can't--"

"Just let go, baby..."

"I love you Edge _you are sex_ fuck I need this oh god oh god yes..."

"Baby I love you you're _so good_ you're mine..."

Bono's violent orgasm set off an explosive chain reaction that left them wailing and panting and almost painfully sensitive.

_He receives an orgasm like it's a gift._

_He is a masterpiece_.

They gasped for air and looked at each other.

And they laughed.

Edge eventually disengaged, collected his toy, used the towels on both of them, and pulled one of the panels of lace down from the posts. Bono rolled onto his side and watched it fall. Edge stretched out next to him and draped their bodies with it. "That was incredible," he said, looking up at the exposed bulbs, much brighter without the lace.

"So were you," Bono smiled, satisfied and content.

"You look so beautiful in navy." Edge reached for something on the table behind him, and they kissed as if two and a half decades had fallen away. Edge took Bono's left hand and placed a small white shell in it. Bono held it in front of his face, bemused.

"Remember that first day when we walked by the shore this winter, and you realized you didn't have callouses anymore?"

"And you decided we wouldn't have sex all winter? Of course."

"I picked this up when I kissed your fingers."

"Edge..."

"You've come so far. It's astonishing."

"Your love is such a gift." They gazed at each other quietly for a few minutes, not wanting to break the spell.

Eventually Bono asked, "Want to take a bath together? That tub is divine." Edge nodded and they got off the bed. Edge went into the bathroom and busied himself with the tub's faucet, which seemed straightforward enough. Meanwhile Bono, using the lace as a sort of makeshift bathrobe, went back to his suite of rooms and returned with the bowl of peaches.

"Want one?" he asked with a grin.

"Sure."

They shared a peach while the tub filled and helped each other with various juicy drips in the dim blue light from the bedroom.

"Do you want other lights on?"

"I think what's coming out of your glow chamber will suffice," Bono said, rubbing Edge's shoulders.

"God, I wish I were twenty years old right now. I'd fuck you again this instant."

Bono laughed and slowly lowered himself into the water and shuddered at its heat. "Look, Edge. I am still feeling the after-effects of what just happened, I'll have you know. Take it easy."

Edge knealt beside the tub and kissed his mouth. "I'll just have to keep kissing you, then."

Bono caressed the back of his head. "You have seriously been all over me tonight with the kissing."

"I don't see you complaining." Edge stroked Bono's cheek and neck, both red with beard burn.

_Collateral damage._

"Not a bit. Get in here." The tub was just large enough to accomodate both of their bodies if they sat at opposite ends and arranged their legs just so. The water rose to the overflow drain and gurgled a bit as it leveled off. They looked at each other and rested their necks against the tub's cool, rounded lip.

"Well, this is just about perfect."

"Living the dream, Reg."

They relaxed quietly for a while in the deep blue shadows. Edge closed his eyes and seemed to be meditating. Bono idly traced his name in the wet hairs near Edge's exposed knee before drifting off into a reverie of the past few months.

After a while Edge opened his eyes to find a visibly shaken Bono. "What's wrong?"

"Edge," he said, his quiet voice choked with a combination of tears and relief. "I was so scared. You helped me through all of it. Where would I even be...?"

Edge got out of the tub and re-entered on Bono's side to spoon him. Seeing Bono in tears was enough to make him want to cry as well. "I will always be here," he managed to say, holding Bono close. They each tried to calm down, and the warm water and their own closeness helped with that.

After a while Bono began to hum an old R.E.M. song, and then he sang quietly,

_You are here with me_

_You are here with me_

_You have been here_

_And you are everything_

Edge held him tightly and inhaled the scent of his damp hair, and after a minute Bono seemed to calm down, saying, "God damn it, why didn't we write that?"

"Too busy writing about Apartheid, probably."

"Hey, so what was the stupid name of that toy?"

Edge shook his head. "It was so embarrassing to purchase online."

"You use Morleigh's name when you buy that stuff, don't you?" Bono asked, looking back.

"Obviously."

"So what is it?"

"Okay, are you ready? Hot Octopuss. Octopuss ends with a double S."

Bono chortled. "You used a Hot Octopuss on me? That's the fucking greatest."

"No expense was spared in the making of your orgasm tonight, B."

"Why didn't you get me one of those this winter?" Bono held up his right hand. "It would have been much more effective than this guy."

"I didn't want you to leave me for an octopus."

"Perish the thought, Reg."

Edge smiled.

"I still want one, though."

The bath water was cooling, and Edge's legs were falling asleep, so they got out, dried off, and went to bed. Edge spread a blanket and a large down comforter over Bono and turned out the blue lights. They fell asleep in each other's arms, leaving three-quarters of the bed's expanse untouched.

Bono woke up just before dawn with an idea. "Edge," he whispered, gently tapping on his cheekbone like a cat.

"What is it, B.?" he replied groggily.

"Did you bring a guitar up with you?"

"Have I ever not brought one?"

"I need you to help me figure out some chords," Bono said sweetly.

"Now?"

"It's going to leave my head if you don't, please? You know how it is."

Edge knew how it was. He gave Bono a hug and felt around for the switch on the bedside lamp and turned it on. The room seemed offensively normal without the blue. Bono wrapped the detached panel of lace around himself--a bit of subversive style to contrast with the room's otherwise vanilla decorations--and opened the curtains. Once again the sky was pink over the Baie des Anges, and he waited at the end of the bed for Edge and his guitar.

"Okay, so what's going on in that yellow head of yours?" he asked, handing the guitar to Bono and moving to sit behind him.

"Just some chords. I don't know how to arrange them, but one of them is definitely B."

"Of course it is." Edge arranged his fingers on the fretboard and Bono strummed.

"Perfect."

"What else?"

"G."

Edge found G and smiled at Bono's left earring as he played it.

"E, maybe? E flat?"

"Sure." He let Bono mess with those for a bit.

"And D...sharp? Maybe E again."

Edge and Bono experimented some more, methodically trying out different combinations and progressions for a few more minutes before Bono gave up and leaned against Edge's warm chest. He tilted his head back as far as it could go and rested it on Edge's right shoulder. They smiled at each other. "Something's in there, I know it. We'll figure it out sooner or later," he said as the sunrise filled the room with a bright orange light.

"I'm sure we will."


End file.
